Facing Forward
by ZombieJazz
Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also a continuation of the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU. It may be confusing (and spoiler-y) to readers who haven't read those stories.
1. Dirty Laundry

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia glanced up from folding the laundry as she heard the front door open. She could almost feel Brian taking in how quiet the place was as he shucked off his boots in that way she hated. The one that she usually nattered at him about if they were coming in the door the same time – especially if the kids were in tow and watching his example of kicking the toes of their boots against the wall, leaving scuff marks and then letting them land cluttered where they may.

But she'd been biting her tongue about it this week or so. Like she'd been biting her tongue about a lot of things as she tried to let them all cool down and find a way through this. A way through when they'd been wandering through some state of this for a long time – apparently their entire relationship and friendship and partnership. But she'd been too blind or too wrapped up in the kids or her job or just her own shit – to see it. To be there for him.

So it wasn't just a cool down period. It was trying to learn how to warm up to each other again. In a new way. A different way. How to turn the months and months – the better part of a year and a half – of tension that had been building up between them and straining their relationship and their family.

The tension that she'd again slogged off as parenting and family life. And the job. And trying to find some kind of balance and any kind of time. The slow recognition that when she did find time – or force herself to make time – it was usually reserved for herself. Not for him. Not for their relationship. And the other quiet recognition that those few and far between hours that did emerge as time of her own, they'd usually been of Brian's making. Him watching the kids. Taking them out somewhere. Telling her to go out for a run or a meal or a massage. Telling her to take time for herself, always just shrugging that massages, brunches, hairdressers, organized group work-out classes and museums or art galleries weren't his thing. He'd watch the kids. He'd take them to the park or a movie or bowling or to do that week's grocery run instead. He could handle it. And he always did.

She told herself that it was just what family life looked like. What raising little kids was about. That it was normal for the relationship aspect of any of it – them as a couple – to be pushed farther and farther to the side. It was just the way it was. And any tension within that she written off as utter exhaustion and frustration rooted in the expanding realization that they had far from the perfect kids or the perfect family in any way, shape or form. That it was never going to get any easier. The kids were just going to get bigger and bigger kids yielded bigger problems.

And her and Brian were getting older. His mom was. Cragen and Eileen were. Munch. Even though they had their supports and their network – it was different.

Middle age crisis. Job crisis. Crisis with the kids. Managing a young adult's quarter-life crisis and heart-break and trying to help him figure out how to find a job and function and live as a man on his own two feet in whatever society was today. Trying to figure out how to do any and all of that – to explain it - for a ten-year-old boy and a five-year-old girl who were growing up in a world and country and society that regularly scared her anymore in more ways than just what she saw on the job ever did.

There were lots of reasons for the months of tension and strain in their house. That's what she'd told herself.

And maybe that had been part of the tension and the drifting and the strain. But it was clear know it was only part of it. A small part of it.

And Olivia was trying so hard to not turn it into her own guilt and self-blame – into a thing about her. But she felt all of that. She didn't know how she hadn't let herself see what was going on. To see the signs in Brian. To clue into where they were coming from. What they were growing out of.

She was having to try just as hard to not go a 'Liv' on him, as she'd been warned against. As he'd stabbed her in the heart with that comment even though he hadn't meant to hurt her that way but he'd been hurting at the time and he'd lashed out. Because he'd spent more than thirty years trying to hide and manage all of this on his own. And he'd become accustom to people not seeing it even when he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. Even when all the signs were right there in front of you if you just fucking stopped and looked. And she hadn't. Not in that way. When she should've seen it twenty years ago and she should've more than seen the signs now.

But he didn't want her To not do her 'shtick' that she'd been accused of repeatedly already. He didn't want to hear it. That's what he said. What he meant was he didn't want to be treated like a victim – even though he was. But it was only now – as an adult middle aged man raising two kids, with a young man in their lives who looked up to him – that he was starting to even wrap his head around trying to cope with that designation. A label he didn't want. The definitions around it and misconceptions and misunderstandings and stigma that he had dodged from for decades and had lost more pieces of himself than that man had taken from that little boy in that car's backseat.

So maybe what he really meant – what he wanted and needed – was specifically for her to not to turn him into a victim. Especially not one of her victims. Another conversation that had turned into raised voices he'd clearly expressed that he wasn't 'one of her victims and he wasn't going to be'. He'd yelled at her – while he twisted and turned and held his hand to his forehead and pressed what was left of his thumb into his eyes – that he wasn't going to let her make this about her either. That he didn't want to hear how she felt about any of it right now. Or what she was going through. He didn't care. And then he'd held back a sob – poorly – before he said he couldn't stand her 'looking at him differently' and he'd pushed away from her and then out of the house. To a bar through the way he smelled when he finally managed to drag himself home – after she'd called his usual watering holes and made sure Ray cut him off and got him in an Uber home.

But that was then. And this was now. Days and days later. And they were still trying. Trying again. Well either of them did very well at pretending that nothing happened or was happening. She was sick of the pretending. It hadn't worked for them. It wasn't working for them. It wasn't going to work for them. Not as a couple or as parents. Not with two little kids at home who had already more than picked up on the strain between her and Brian for months and were acutely aware that Mommy and Daddy were falling apart right now. And it was making Emily and Benji fall apart too. Their attitudes and behavior were reflecting the tension and tantrums they were watching bubble over in their peripheral vision.

"Hell-yo," she heard Brian call out from down in the hall.

She smiled thinly at that. It was a very small Brian silliness for the kids. Emmy's mangled 'yello' for so long turning into a 'hello', 'yello' exchange between the two and eventually settling into the 'hello, yo' as Benji got in on the action of ambushing Brian nearly as soon as he came in the door on the few and far between days it was actually her who managed to grab the kids from school or after-school care and be home with them first.

But that night it wasn't the yelled up the stairs greeting that usually came with his arrival. There was a quietness to it – a flat statement - like he might've almost been hopeful he had the house to himself for a bit.

"I'm here," she provided.

There wasn't a response. Such little response she almost felt him still down there – like he was considering the door and maybe making a run for it. That that would be easier than being stuck at home with her alone for any length of time. Like he was walking into an ambush and he was working at fight or flight. Opening that door and leaving or pulling his gun before coming into the room. Or just doing some quiet recon to decide if the kids were really there or not. If they were really alone. And how he felt about that. But eventually she heard him start up the stairs. She saw him appear and give her – and the folding – a cursory scan.

"Where the kiddos at?" he muttered at her, his duffle slipping off his shoulder and landing on the ground with a thud that betrayed he wasn't just toting around a change of clothes in it. Though, she was going to tell herself that it was his work computer and some files for his trip, his service weapon in a lock box – not that he was carrying several days of personal belongings around with him for if he did decide he needed to run away from all this – from them – more than he already was. Not that he'd dragged that duffle packed to work because he'd left that morning thinking that he'd crash on John's couch again. Though that hadn't worked out the way he'd wanted in his first attempt at escaping her – this – because Munch had tried to talk to him, to give him a sounding board, too.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and shook out the shirt she was holding. He was clearly uninterested in helping and wasn't even that interested in what her answer might be. He trudged toward the kitchen.

"I picked up some beer for you," she offered to his back.

She got a muted glance at that. It was as close as she was going to get to surprise or appreciation right now. But if he was going to be drinking these days – and he was – she'd prefer it be beer than the hard stuff he was getting into at the watering holes he was finding himself in after they got the kids to bed each night.

"There's Dr. Pepper too," she provided. "For your trip."

That got a grunt – one that contained more surprise. And she allowed her own small look of surprise as he came back to the doorway, leaning his shoulder against it while he popped the tab and took a slow swig. Apparently soda was enough of a rarity in their home that it took a preferred position above beer – at least this particular night. But she'd take that. A small victory and maybe some progress.

"The kids," he put to her again.

She considered him and the statement, not cluing in that it was a question more so than a statement of any kind. That it wasn't about him stating he'd only picked the pop because he didn't like to drink in front of the kids. She'd give him that he'd been good about that so far. He always had been. The kids might've seen him hung-over but they'd never seen him drunk. She hoped they never would, though with how things were right now it was likely only a matter of time before his stumbled entrance roused one of them. But he'd know that too. He'd stay away if he was self-aware to realize how wasted he was. Because for all the flaws and faults Brian did have – he was a good Daddy. He was ever cognizant and viligant about that role and title and the responsibilities it carried. And even for the flaws and faults he did have, he strived tireless to keep the worst of them hidden from their kids. The kids got his endless patience, not his short fuse. Again, so far.

But her contemplation of his statement – not the question in his tone – must've played across her face.

"Where are they?" he provided more directly.

"Oh," she shook her head realizing she hadn't answered his previous question. But she just went back to the laundry, as he wandered over to the opposite – far - end of the couch and slouched down into the cushions. "Jack took them to a movie. Winter break kick-off treat."

"Better not be a good one," Brian mumbled again.

He leaned forward for a moment. And for a moment Olivia actually thought he was going to snag up the pile of socks she'd been collecting on the coffee table and start matching them for her. But instead he glanced around, lifting up some of the laundry and then gazing at the end table before stuffing his hand between the cracks in the cushion on either side of him until he made another small growl and shook his head, flashing the remote at her and his annoyance over all the places it ended up. And never in the place he left it. For as messy as Brian - was in every way – he was very specific about their home theater set up and where all the remotes and controllers and wires and paraphernalia was supposed to be left on the ready and set when not in use.

"Lego Movie," she allowed. "I think."

"Mmm …," he provided vague acknowledgement. "Dodged that bullet."

She gave him a small smile for the effort. There was truth to it. Neither of them loved the kids' cartoons of the current generation. Brian's assessment of the first Lego Movie had been something along the lines of: 'If that wasn't just complete sensory overload, it was a real bad acid trip.'

But she didn't know if he caught the little smile that time. Or he cared that he did make her smile. That he did make her laugh. And for everything that was out of sync with them – had been out of sync with them for so long – they did have that. Their friendship. And it had always counted. In likely more ways than she'd known or understood. For both of them.

The TV got flicked on, though muted, as he flipped to one of his sports channels and stared passively at it.

"Fucking spring training already," he mumbled.

"Don't watch it if it's going to upset you," she said.

The short fuse – at least with her these days – ignited and his eyes bounded to her. "Why'd it upset me?"

But she just locked sight lines with him. She wasn't going to fight with him about it. She wasn't going to be gouged into a fight about it. And he knew that too – even though he knew how to push her buttons. Just like she could push and flick his.

He knew damn well why it might upset him. The same reason – that she'd never clued into – that he'd have sports on the television all fucking year but never in the summer months and never baseball. Why he always turned down tickets to the Mets when Cragen had them on offer and never went with them when he did take the kids. Why he had argued tooth-and-nail about not wanting to sign Benji up for Little League or his little Emmy up for T-Ball – but their weekends were packed with hockey and floor hockey and football and flag football and soccer and swimming lessons. Just not fucking baseball.

The same reason he'd nearly blown a gusset with her when Stone had played some catch with Benji and fooled around teaching both the kids how to hold and swing a bat to hit a ball. How Benji had been so excited about getting to go to school and tell his classmates that he'd gotten to toss around a ball with a real MLB player - like that was going to somehow improve his reputation and social standing. But Brian had just lost it. She thought he was going to hit Peter when he'd arrived in the park and found Stone helping Benji adjust his grip on the bat and improve his stance.

Her and Brian had had it out later about it. But Brian had spun it into an entirely different argument – one that she'd been so taken back by and offended by that she'd missed the reasoning behind all of it again. Accusations about the way she looked at Peter and talked to him and was letting him into their personal, private, family life. Digging back farther about Tucker. Accusations and innuendo that she just didn't know where it was coming from. It was so far out of left field and just seeping with insecurities. It was just a complete side swipe that had turned into an even bigger blow up as she got defensive and thrown names and cases from work – and past admitted and un-admitted digressions his way. It'd ultimately resulted in him leaving and sleeping somewhere else that night. More tension between them while keeping up the cloak about the why of any and all of it. And she'd let him do that.

But not tonight. She wasn't going to be gouged into an argument about it. To let him spin and deflect. To pull the wool over her eyes. Or for them to have a blow up about nothing when they had a whole lot of somethings they could be having it out about. That they could be working on – like grown-ups. Like people who cared about each other. Who loved each other.

"Rangers are playing tonight," he just muttered at her, though and shifted his eyes back to the television. Stopping what he might've been trying to push.

But the remote bounced on his knee. She knew he wasn't watching at pre-game commentary – or even watching the scores scroll across the bottom of the screen. She wondered how many months – or years – he'd pretended to stare at those scores while his mind wandered other places. And she'd labelled as just his unwinding mechanism. She'd thought that was what it was. And maybe it was. But it also wasn't.

But Olivia let him look. Let him simmer until he calmed and he finally did sit forward on the couch and grab at some of the laundry in the heaping baskets in front of her. It boggled her mind how many clothes Emmy, Benji and Brian went through in any given week. It was impossible to keep up and their hampers always seemed more overflowing than anything she accumulated.

"Thank you …," she said. She was trying to say that more lately too. Because she'd realized she likely hadn't enough – or pretty much ever – in their relationship. But she wasn't sure Brian liked her saying it that much. Or that it was helping anything.

"You must've run out of there today," he said as he helped with the folding and still pretended to look at the scores of whatever teams were playing down in the Grapefruit league that afternoon.

She shrugged a bit. "Early dismissal for the kids, Jack taking them for a few hours, way things have been lately, just thought I'd try to take advantage of that time. So we aren't running around in circles tomorrow."

Brian allowed a little nod and sound of acknowledge at that.

"I might skip his game tomorrow morning," she provided. "Get a few more errands done."

"Sure," he said. "Know how you feel about sitting in an arena."

There was tone to it – even if there was truth to it. But she didn't bite – even as he tossed the shirt he'd just folded into the basket that had clearly been designated as Benji's. But she did lean forward, though, and grabbed it out of there.

Brain gave her a disapproving look – a challenge - like she was going to criticize his folding technique. Like that was all he expected from her. Disapproval or commentary that he didn't want to hear. But she just set it in a pile next to her, placing her hand over top of it.

"I'm keeping some things out to put in his bag," she said and then held Brian's shirt that she'd just folded. "Are you going to want to take this one?"

He gave a shrug and grabbed the next thing out of the hamper of heaped clean clothes. "Yea, sure."

She gave a little nod and set it up behind her on the top ledge of the couch where she'd been collecting some clothing that she knew were his favorites – and she knew his favorites, the oversized, rumpled, black, layered and usually hooded clothing that he hid in in his off-hours that she likely should've seen as another sign. But he'd likely want his usual – his comfortable – for this excursion that he was taking with Benji. The work trip that wasn't really a necessary work trip that was conveniently scheduled on their boy's winter break.

"Do you know if the hotel you're staying in has a pool?" Olivia asked – trying for passive. "You should guys should pack your suits."

"Ah, yea," he allowed again. "Don't know. I'll check it out."

They folded.

"I was going to put the last of Emmy's baby stuff into a bag," she said. "You can see if Lindsay wants it."

He gave her a sideways look. A long one – like the concept of letting go of the last of the baby stuff they had kicking around in boxes was more than he could handle then. Like it was harder for him than it had been for her to realize that beyond a few treasured items it really didn't make sense to hang onto the clothes, toys and crib blankets too much longer.

"Don't want to just lend it to Rollins," he finally said. Asked. Stated?

Olivia shrugged. "She's got lots of little girl stuff already. And the clothes would still be too big for the baby."

"So give it to her just in time for baby number three," he mumbled.

"Being rude about Amanda to try to hurt me isn't going to help anything, Cass," she said flatly.

Brian's gaze sat on her for another long beat. "I don't think I'll see Lindsay," he said and went back to folding.

Olivia looked at him for her own beat. She processed that. More people he was hiding from. "If Erin's not having visitors over yet, you could just drop it at the District with Jay. Or Voight."

"She's likely got lots of stuff for her kids," he mumbled. "Doesn't need our old used crap."

Olivia watched him a moment longer and then went back to her folding too. "Hank's boy might be able to watch Benj while you're at your 'meetings'," she said, barely trying to contain her tone about the meetings out of her voice. She knew they weren't enough of a 'meeting' that it necessitated him driving halfway across the country to take them.

"Think he'd do better sitting in some empty board room than being left with some strange kid," Brian said.

Olivia shook her head at that. And bit her tongue again. She let them fold. Let them simmer. Let them calm. If that's what they were even doing.

"Had Ben's teacher on the line again today," he said quietly.

"I saw your text," she allowed.

"You didn't have much of a reaction."

She shrugged. "Doesn't seem like anything I say about it is helping anyone," she managed. So much so that even Benji's teacher had clued in that it was better to try to reach Brian first. Another epic fail in parenting and increasing pressure, stress, strain and tension in their family – that had allowed them to hide and mask even more of what was going on underneath it all. To distract and focus on other things. But it was chicken and egg. Sometimes – right now – she didn't know what came first. How any and all of interconnected. What to do about any of it. "I guess I'm hoping that maybe with the change of scenery he'll open up to you a bit more."

He gazed at her at that. His folding stopped, though she continued. She knew when he'd presented that he was going on this 'work trip' that he'd expected her to put up a fuss. That maybe he even wanted her to put up a bigger fuss when he'd said he'd make the trip on the kid's Winter Break week – that he'd take Benji. Like he wanted her to say something that he could pin on an accusation that now she didn't trust him with the kids. With their little boy who was growing up too quickly. Who was too grown up before he was even theirs and the implications of that were becoming more and more apparent as he did get older.

But all she'd said was that maybe that would be good for everybody. And maybe it would be. Maybe it wouldn't be. But maybe it would. Maybe it would be what everyone needed to try to regroup some more. For them to take tentative next steps. But she still thought that Brian was waiting for her to try to talk him out of this trip. To tell him that he could have this 'meeting' via Skype. That he could send one of his subordinates. That he didn't need to take Benji at least. That she'd already signed the kids up for day camp for the week and they weren't going to get much of a refund with the cancellation policy and wouldn't get their money's worth if Benji was only there for a couple days at the end of the week. That Benji wanted to go to the camp – that it'd be good for him. But she wasn't saying any of that – even if she believed most of it. She was biting her tongue.

"He say anything about it?"

"I haven't seen him yet," she said. "Jack picked them up."

Brian nodded and put one of his tshirts back up behind her head with the rest of his travel picks.

"Think we should talk private school again," he said. She still wasn't sure if that was a statement or a question. Either way, Olivia wasn't sure it was the time to talk about this. Or that it was the solution to anything going on with Benji.

"We can't afford private school, Bri," she said and his eyes settled on her. There was this hurt, pleading desperation to them. But that look moved across them regularly these past weeks. "They're both going to be looking at college around the time One PP will be trying to push us out the door. We can't do tuition now and help with tuition then."

"Yea," he allowed. Because that was where this conversation had lead previously. And Olivia didn't know where else he wanted it to lead now. Where else they could realistically take it. "So what's the plan?"

She shook her head and shrugged all at the same time. "Try to get him into a middle school that's a better fit, I hope."

Brian made a little noise and she looked at him again. He gave her a little frown. "I meant tonight. We meeting them somewhere for chow?"

"Oh," she said. Because sometimes – all the time anymore – their communication just seemed so off. Thinking and talking on different wave lengths. Just not connecting. "Umm. I asked Jack to take them out for dinner. I thought it'd just give us some time."

He stared at her. There was this discomfort to it. "Believe it or not, I actually like 'family date night'," he said with tone that only betrayed how much he disliked the cutesy label their Friday evenings together had been given.

"I know," she allowed. "But I thought we could have something vaguely resembling an actual date night. It's been a long time since we've done that."

He just shook his head. "It's been a long time since we've done a lot of things, Liv," he mumbled.

And she stared at him. He tried to ignore her despite his tone that had betrayed him there too.

Olivia set her hand on his knee and he looked down at it. The uncertainty sat there again too. A discomfort. One again that she should've seen and understood a long, long time ago. But any of it – all of it – she'd wrapped it up in other issues. And Brian had hid some of it well behind his bravado. And his commitment to … her pleasure in the bedroom … rather than … his.

And she'd bought it. She'd bought it twenty years ago and she'd let herself appreciate it without giving it too much thought these past years. She worried more about her own issues and boundaries and past and baggage. Her worries about him were wrapped up in his line of duty injuries and his heart. Wrapped up in their own middle age and their fatigue as parents of young children both working stressful jobs that exposed them to crimes and victims that left you not wanting to think about sex and struggling to see the pleasurable side of any of it.

But now that she knew she felt like a curtain had been pulled back that exposed and answered all sorts of questions that she hadn't realized she should've been asking – or having. Clarity. This whole new light. This ah-ha moment that explained things she hadn't – but should've – known needed greater explanation.

And it had her looking back on their relationship. In the bedroom. Now and twenty years ago. In a way she knew Brian didn't want her to. But was more wrapped up in cursing herself for her blindness and her assumptions.

She'd always assumed Brian had been with a lot of women. And maybe he had – but it was a string of one-night stands if it was.

Olivia knew this was the longest relationship he'd ever had. It was the longest relationship she'd ever had too. But she kept going back foolishly to that first time – to what she'd labelled as immature, puppy love in him. When it'd been her who'd been too immature to see and understand what was going on there.

She wondered now how many people Brian had been with before then. His language and actions around their tryst back then – now, looking back on it, thinking about it – betrayed that it likely hadn't been many at all. And she'd been cruel to him. Cruel in her ability to see and recognize that. And part of her wondered how much that had then shaped how he approached women and relationships in his 30s. How much it shaped who and what and how they were now. The whys around him coming back to her and fighting for this relationship that she hadn't exactly made easy.

"Well, we can work on that a bit to with the alone time," she offered.

His eyes remained on her hand – on his knee - like he was considering it. Processing something about it or the offer or their present and his past. But he couldn't accept it. Wouldn't let himself. She knew he was scared – on a lot of levels now more than ever before. His eyes drifted back to the television, while he blindly continued to fold.

She let her hand fall away. "Or we could go to that new seafood boil place you've been talking about."

"The one you've said is paying obscene prices to hand feed and then clean up the kids while we don't eat the food that's not meant to be eaten in a restaurant anyway," he provided flatly.

"We don't have the kids tonight, Brian," she put back to him.

"Rangers are playing," he said. Again.

She sank back a bit and rubbed her eyebrow at that rebuttal. The one meant to put her – the situation – exactly in their place.

"OK," she exhaled. "You want to order in some Thai?"

He shrugged – didn't look at her. "Will be dropping enough cash on random shit this month with the kids' fucking Winter Break. There's leftovers. Or make a sandwich or something."

"Brian, I think we can afford to go out for a meal together," she pressed at him. "You want to watch the game – we can go to Hometown. OK? Have your beer, get your ribs, watch the Rangers and Sabres."

She got a look. The muted surprise that she knew who was playing. That she was actually paying attention – to the sport obsession or just to the headlines scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

"You hate ribs," he provided in complete monotone.

It was a deflect again. To try to get a reaction about whether or not she actually really hated ribs, which she didn't. She just didn't think it was a major food group in the way that Brian, Benji and Jack seemed to – and seemed to be working at convincing Emily the same thing. Her daughter wasn't going to be a girlie-girl with the boys and men she had in her life. Even when the tiara did go on her head, it was just as likely to be dressed up with BBQ sauce lipstick dripping from her chin.

"And yet I'm trying," Olivia said.

He gave her a look. "What are you trying, Liv?"

She flopped her folding onto her lap and stared at him. "I'm listening, Bri. I heard you. You're right. We haven't been connecting as a couple. For too long. I haven't been making time or space for that. For you. For us. And I'm willing to – I'm ready to – work on that. So I'm trying. You've got to try too for this to work, Brian."

"I've tried," he muttered and folded more hastily.

"I know you've tried, Brian," she said. "I know you fought for this relationship and this family. And, I understand it might not feel fair but you're still going to need to meet me halfway right now. Again."

He just kept folding. It was a mess now. She was likely going to have to redo some of it when he did just leave it alone. She reached and tried to still his hands. He yanked his wrist away from her and sat there teetering on the edge of the couch, readying himself to run – again.

"Brian, look, I know I haven't made any of this relationship easy for you. I know that. And, these past couple weeks have made exceedingly clear that I am about the last person you want to talk to about anything. That I'm really that hard to talk to—"

His fists clenched on his knees. "Don't," he hissed out and his eyes danced anger at her. "Don't. This is not about you."

Olivia gazed at him. "This is not about me. This is about us," she said and circled her arm around the room, across the laundry. "All of us. And whatever we are – whatever this relationship is or isn't, Brian – we are a family. You are my family. And, for all the things I have questioned about us – as a couple – I have never, EVER, questioned you being a father to these two growing, wonderful, awful, screwed up, amazing little people we are raising in this house. Two kids who absolutely adore their Daddy. Who think he walks on water. And, as their mother, I cannot sit here knowing their Daddy is suffering."

"I don't need one of your pep talks," he mumbled under his breath.

"This is not a fucking pep talk, Brian," she spat at him. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine. I'm dealing with it."

"No. You aren't," she said and nudged closer to him on the couch, but it only made his fists clench tighter. "I'm afraid, Brian." He made him still just enough that she could feel it. "I'm afraid that I'm going to lose my best friend. That I already have. And that now he's going to run away from this – from us – when we made this together, Bri. And I can't even imagine doing this with anyone else."

He finally looked at her. Just looked. For a long time. They just stared at each other. She felt herself working to fight against her own tears. And she could see him putting in as much effort to stay stoic with her too.

They'd had so much back and forth these past weeks. These flares of tempers and anger and fear and regret. These moments where she wondered what the hell they were doing. These moments where she feared for him – what she'd find if he was left alone. If any given morning would be the last she saw him. If he'd runaway. If she should just pack up the kids and leave too. And then just wanting to hold him and hug him and cry with him. To try to figure out some way to make this better or easier for him. Not to fix him – but to help him hurt less. To try to make him more whole and less lost. To forgive him and for him to forgive her. To set aside all the guilt and anger and fear and brokenness they both had coursing through them.

"I'm going to shower first," he finally almost whispered. "Change." And he rose as she mutely mouthed 'OK'.

She watched him go. She watched the door close. And she listened. She waited. The long beats for the shower to start. Until it finally did. But she still waited – for the sound of the curtain pulling open and back into place. For the change in the spray as it was disrupted as it hit against his body. And it never came.

She sat a moment longer – two – but then rose too. She padded down the hall and stood at the door. She listened. And then she tested the knob. He hadn't locked it and she pushed it open. He jumped a bit as she did.

Brian stood in his briefs, fists clenched as he leaned his weight against the counter of the wash basin. His head hanging in front of the mirror as he stopped trying to keep tears in that were coming out of his eyes in a slow, steady trickle. Though, he reached and swiped at them as he saw her.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be sorry," she said and closed the door behind her. He stared at it – at her.

And Olivia considered him for a long moment. He stared at her. That awkward, unsure, discomfort painting over him again. Like he'd suddenly become scared of her. Or scared of being with her. Or what she thought of him – or them – now that she knew.

He hadn't touched her since. And she'd been careful with his space and his boundaries.

"I'm going to get undressed," she finally let herself say. "Is that OK?"

He stood there. Like he didn't know how to answer. But he finally managed a, "Sure."

So she did what she'd said. Slowly while he watched. Though there wasn't anything sexy about it. It wasn't hurried. It wasn't slinky. It was just removing the jeans and sweater she'd changed into after getting home. The unhooking of her bra and the shimming down of her panties as she stepped out of them.

And he stared like he'd never seen her naked before. Though, there was some truth to that. Their sex life was almost always in the dark and under sheets. He'd been a long time since he'd seen her quite this exposed without a blanket or bathroom or tshirt covering her up moments later.

It'd been too long since they'd had sex even. It'd been months and months of one of them reaching the point where they very basely put to the other they needed to fuck. And that had been what it was – they just got off. It wasn't even sex. Let alone any kind of intimacy or romance. It wasn't making love. Or even just being together as a couple. They'd been two friends – roommates – with benefits who happened to be raising two little kids together.

It wasn't working. It hadn't been working. And it wasn't going to work now. They couldn't keep going like this. Especially not now.

She stepped closer to him – naked. Vulnerable and uncomfortable in her own way. And he finally sputtered out of his fixed stared. He shook his head and backed up a bit.

"I just," he said in an uncharacteristic moment of Brian Cassidy being loss for words. "I don't think—"

"Stop," she whispered at him and found his hand. She held it. He actually gripped it back – tightly. "We don't have to do anything. Just … let's work on being together, Brian. Let's take a fucking shower."

He gazed at her. "A fucking shower?" he teased. Only it wasn't a tease.

She cocked her head at him. "A shower," she allowed. "The other part – if we decide on that – at our age, let's save it for on dry, flat land."

He allowed a restrained laugh, quiet. And he looked down – down her front, breasts, abdomen but she knew he was just staring at his hand in hers. She rubbed her thumb over the top of his hand.

"I know none of this – all of it – likely isn't what either of us imagined. But I really do love you, Bri," she said. His soft eyes drifted to find hers. "And I hope somewhere in there you know – are able to make yourself accept – just how much I care about you. And value you. This whole family does."

"I know …," he mouthed softly.

"OK," she said and rubbed her thumb across the top of his hand a couple more times before reaching to touch his cheek with her free hand. He stared at her – awkward, hopeful and scared. She leaned in an found his mouth. It was slow. It lingered, though it stayed innocent. His eyes still as deep and mixed in his emotions and fears as she backed away from him. "Only thing that's changed is that I understand some of your boundaries a bit better," she whispered at him.

He made a little sound at that and his head bowed. She nudged a little closer and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her chest against his and felt his beating heart there. And she held him until she felt some of the tension give and he let himself place his arms around her too.

"Incredible," she said into his chest.

"What?" he rattled.

She smiled thinly against his chest. "Our first time, that was your line." He made a little noise and she backed away from him just a bit, found his eyes again. "You're still pretty good at finding ways to make me feel incredible, Bri."

"Yea, in the limited moments I'm not royally pissing you off …"

"Twenty years, Bri," she allowed. "We both know how to push each other's buttons."

"Yea, no kidding …"

She smiled again against his chest and then stepped back a bit. She hooked her thumbs around the waist of his briefs and looked him in the eye. He didn't tell her to stop so she pressed them down a couple inches.

"So, push some of my buttons," she said. "Make me feel incredible."

He made a little noise again. An amusement creeping out from his fear. She wasn't going to push it – but she also knew if they let this fester to long, if he wouldn't let her show him that she was still comfortable with him, if he wouldn't find a way to let himself learn to be comfortable with their sex life now that this was in the open – it was just going to make it harder for them to find a way back from this. As a couple. It was going to be another wedge that drove them farther apart. They needed to make the time. Take the time. To find a way to communicate. To be together. Comfortably.

She nudged the briefs down another inch. "C'mon," she said. But just left it at that. She left him there – she made herself back away and reach for the shower curtain and step inside under the hot water.

And it look another long, lonely moment but then he was there with her. Awkwardly, unsurely, self-consciously – but all in. Together. For now.


	2. Smokehouse

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

**EXPLANATION OF EMILY AND SOME OTHER CLARIFYING FACTS PROVIDED AT BOTTOM FOR THOSE WHO ASKED AND/OR ARE CONFUSED.**

Brian gripped at Liv's hand. He felt her adjust her hand a bit in his grip. He recognized he was likely holding onto her a bit too tightly and forced himself to loosen his fist that just kept clenching these days. He wasn't trying to hurt her. More like he was just trying to give himself some sort of reassurance she was still there.

Sort of felt like a lot of stuff was slipping away these days. Losing his grip. A grip he'd fucking practiced so hard with an iron fist for so long. Muscle memory to just keep it all in place. Clenched tight.

Wasn't usually too much for the PDA. Or any kind of hand holding. But things were different right now. More than a little hard to make that adjustment. Figure out that transition.

She was right, though. She was trying. He could see it and hear it and feel it too even though he didn't really want to. Least not want to admit it. Maybe not even hear it. Sort of felt a little too much like pity. Getting a little too close to her making a victim out of him. But trying not to get to wrapped up in that. At least right now. Until he figured out how the fuck to deal with it. Any of it.

Right now almost felt like it'd be better – just fucking easier – if he was alone. But concept of being alone right now was fucking terrifying too. Didn't know if it'd leave him better or worse off. Didn't know if it'd be better for Liv. And the kids. Or worse.

Hard. He couldn't just fucking disappear on them – as much as he fucking wanted to disappear.

Sort wished he was invisible here right now. This chow hall was pretty much a cop shop. Already seeing people he knew – or at least recognized. Knew Liv would be too. Just felt right now like the whole fucking PD was seeing him and talking about him. Judging him in new ways than before. Whole lot of new material for the road weary and cynical to chew on. Judgement of your peers – other cops – pretty much a trial without judge and jury. Always was going to be wearing some sort of Scarlett Letter now. Either a big V for victim. More likely a big F with a question mark next to it. Is he a fag? Is his relationship and his family a bigger joke than his career? Fucking innuendo about how he ever ended up with Liv. How and why she put up with him. Bullshit about her own sexuality. More bull dyke comments and Badass Benson bullshit that was closely followed by snide remarks about her being a tight ass or an Ice Queen. Little remarks about the how and why him fucking a woman who worked in SVU that long made a whole lot more sense now.

Shit was going to get said. Already felt like it was being said. Word was getting around. Felt like a fucking cloud above him. At work. At this kind of shit. With everyone he knew. Munch. Cragen. Fucking Rollins. Stone. The whole fucking Investigators group he was supposed to be leading and ordering around.

And trying to figure out how to protect his family from it. Liv didn't need protecting – even though she fucking did. But his mom.

He didn't know how to tell his mom as a twelve year old boy. Sure as fuck didn't know how to tell her now. Didn't want her to have to take on that kind of grief and guilt from so fucking long ago now. Just didn't want her to know. For her to feel like she had to take any kind of responsibility for it. For her to blame herself. For her to see it as some kind of commentary on her as a mom. She didn't need to go through all that now. At her age. For something so long ago and in the past.

His Ma knew something was up, though. Knew she could feel it. Her taking the kids after school a couple nights a week didn't help either. Kids and their fucking big mouths reporting that him and Liv had been 'fighting'. Had been asked more than once in the past couple weeks what the hell was going on. And he'd gotten the lecture he'd been hearing for seven years now. The one about not screwing this up with Liv and the kids. The secondary one about how Liv and those two kids were the best thing in his life. The best thing he'd done with his life. What she was most proud of him for. How happy she was he'd finally got at family for himself. Like he didn't know any of that. Like he hadn't spend his entire twenties and thirties listening to her nag at him about all that. Like she didn't know how much it hurt when she said shit like that even though it just came from places of good intentions. Even though he knew it was just a ma worrying. Cuz he saw Liv do the same thing with Jack. Though she did a better job at reeling it all in. To a point.

His mom knowing any of this was just going to break her heart in a thousand pieces. Break her heart in a way that might killer her. In her 70s now. She wasn't supposed to be having to hear things like this from thirty years ago.

Brian didn't know what he'd do – say – if his kids caught wind of this too. Started asking questions. Started sensing more was up than just some rocky times on the home front. And what the hell do you say to little kids about it. How do you protect them from it. Talk to them about. Explain it.

You don't. You just go into complete over-protection mode. And then you tried to reel that in to.

Sometimes he wondered if him being around Ben and Em was just a way to fuck them up more than those fucking early years and foundational moments and just genetics and in-utero shit had fucked them from the get as it was. Those kids had been handed a rough go from the get. A shitty hand they were starting out with to play for the rest of their lives. And sometimes he didn't feel like he was the right person to be explaining ot them how to play any of the fucking game of life. What the fuck did he know. And how the fuck could he help? But at the same time he couldn't let go of them. There were a whole lot of days anymore that it felt like they were about the only things anchoring him. When he felt like he was ready to spin out even just a couple minutes with those kids was enough to steady him again for a while. Even him out a bit to go into the next round of all this shit.

"You OK?" he heard Liv ask him and managed to pull himself out of his head a bit. Gave her a look.

"Yea," he allowed.

But her eyes stayed where his had been – had hadn't even realized he'd been really. He hadn't really been looking at anything but as he followed her line of sight he realized he'd been staring – likely more like glaring at – Royston from the 55.

"You want to go somewhere else?" Liv asked.

He shook his head. "It's fine. Didn't even see him there."

There was truth to it. Hadn't really. Despite being acutely aware that there were other cops in here. But there always were. He was telling himself that these guys might be cops – but so were they. And as much as they were cops – always – right now they weren't on the job. Whatever the fuck that meant. Or counted for. Were you ever really off the job. So instead he was trying to tell himself that these people might work the same job as them but weren't part of their social circle. Like they had a fucking social circle. Neither of them excelled at that. He had people he cracked smart at while he put a few back at Ray's and Liv had her crew at SVU. That's was as close as they got to a social circle. For a whole shit-ton of reasons.

Even kids hadn't fixed that. Em might do better at the whole social butterfly, play-date thing in this complete little weirdo kind of way. But it meant it was a lot of little weirdo kids with some pretty big weirdo parents. So it wasn't like either him or Liv were putting a ton of effort into building any kind of village with these post-Millennials or whatever the fuck they were. Kids closer to Jack's age than his and Liv's raising kids of their own.

And the kids sports and activities and crap – neither him or Liv did too good at getting chatty on the sidelines either. Liv did better than him. Brian just stayed the fuck out of it. It was either way too soccer mom for him or way too over-bearing Hockey Dad who thought his kid was going to be the next Sid the Kid. Way too much negative energy going on for some kid games for his liking. But he went. Every fucking game and practice. So far had only been a handful that he'd missed of either Ben or Em's stuff. Wanted to keep it that way. Especially now. Ben's age. His level of talent and skill – and walking victim sign the kid had flashing above his head more days than not. Wasn't going to have him alone before or after any practice or game. Someone was always going to be in the bleacher, running his ass quick out of the change room and getting him home safe – and whole. That's just the way it was going to be.

"We could just go to our usual spot," Liv said, gripping his hand again. "Maybe this is a little too trendy for us."

He gave a glance over his shoulder again. "This line is fucking ridiculous," he allowed. Apparently their whole attempt at a 'date night' was going to be spent standing in a fucking line.

They'd stopped in once before. In the summer. With the kids. A Sunday afternoon. Late lunch. It hadn't been like this. But apparently the word had gotten out about the barbecue here. Or it was just fucking Red Hook – and fucking Brooklyn anymore – on a Friday night. Add it to the fucking list of things he questioned these days. If moving back across the river had been a smart choice for the family. For raising a family. For them with work and kids and jobs. And just baggage and history and managing time and schedules and any kind of balance of sanity in it all. Sometimes he wasn't sure having a bit more square footage in their place was worth it. Other times, having his mom around – Cragen and his lady friend when they weren't doing the Snow Bird thing – made up for it. Kids getting grandparents. Other times all that just drove him more fucking nuts.

Been sort of wishing he'd just stuck with the veto on the whole 'date night' thing. But Liv was right. She was trying. He needed to try. They needed to try fucking something right now. He needed to or he was going to fuck this up. He couldn't let his shit fuck this up. Needed to find some way – his way – to deal with all this.

Maybe force himself to listen to Liv a bit in the process. Even if she was going all Liv on him. It was going to be fucking hard. Hadn't been easy that night. Wasn't fucking easy. But he was working at going with it.

Maybe he'd just keep believing that if he pretended long enough that eventually it'd feel like it wasn't pretend.

This relationship. His kids. This family. Couldn't be pretend.

So – they were out. They were trying. Eventually they'd get to the front of this line. They'd get some beer. They'd get some barbecue. Maybe by some fucking miracle they'd find a table and actually get to sit and eat it there. In a place where he could actually see the game. Seriously fucking doubted he was gong to be able to hear it, though.

Fuck. Maybe they should bail.

But then it smacked into him exactly why he wasn't bailing. Exactly why he was still fucking trying.

Spotted them. His kiddos. Trying to press in around the mob of hipsters and millennials and beat cops who shouldn't have the dough to eat at this place. He held up his hand and nudged Liv to get her to take a look too. He'd seen her texting. Known it was getting late for them to be wrapping dinner and when Jack would likely be looking to off-load the kids. But had figured that she was likely just giving him their ETA and he'd be hopefully working at spooling the kids down at the house. Apparently not. But Brian didn't mind.

"Hey," he raised his voice above the noise, hand still in the air. "Jack."

The kid spotted him – and so did his little guys. Ben was already making a beeline over. Jack dropped Em's hand so she could keep up with her big bro.

"What are you guys doing here?" he greeted them, giving Liv a look. They greeted him. Smack of their little bodies impacting with his. The 'you're home' hugs that just never fucking got old. Even when you thought you didn't want them and just wanted five fucking minutes to get in the door and settled and spool down from your own day. You wanted them. Could redirect you quick. Even if the aftermath of switching right into dad mode completely tapped you more than you already were. That was still a redirect.

Liv pulled off Big Man's beanie, brushed at his mess of hat head that he was working real hard at turning into some real good hockey hair.

"Shockingly popcorn and soda doesn't make a very good dinner," Liv said, cocking her head at Jack as he managed to wrestle his way through the crowd and get up to them. "So now that we're all crashing from the carb coma, before we get too hangry before bedtime, I thought it'd be a good idea to get some protein into their bellies."

Brian made small amused sound at that but his eyes shifted again as the dick behind him declared obnoxiously, "Back of the line!"

Brian gave him daggers. "You got a problem?"

"Unspoken rules and common courtesy, man," the little bearded dipshit said. "Adding three people to your party – uncool. Back of the line."

"Uncool. Uncool's that gerbil you've got growing on your face. I'm feeding my family here. You got a problem with that – go get in another line."

The guy rolled his eyes at him and Brian tensed but Liv's hand again grabbed at his before he go riled up more.

"It's OK," Jack interrupted, glaring hard at the dillweed. "I'm leaving. So unless you've really got a problem with not having stood in line with two little kids for the past hour, maybe relax. Because unspoken rule, dude – don't be a dick."

Jack shook his head and gave them a look. Liv took him in. "You don't have to leave, Jack," she said, keeping her eyes on the asshole and his buddies behind them.

Jack shrugged. "Yeah, I do. I've got a thing."

"A thing?" Liv raised her eyebrow at the kid but Jack just deflected. Gave her a head shake. Wasn't going to be handing Liv any details.

Em pulled at Brian's half thumb while Liv worked at pulling off her hat and scarf and mittens before she overheated in this fucking smokehouse that they were packed into like they were cattle too.

"Look, Daddy," she said. "Look wha Dack got me."

She held up a little plastic bag of Lego at him. "Whoa, Unicorn Cat," he allowed and stooped a bit as her arms came up in a demand to be lifted. Didn't have a problem with that. Didn't need her getting trampled by the rest of the sheep in this place.

Pulled her up. And there it was. His little girl's arms around his neck, gripping at his shoulders. Dirty boots kicking around his waist and mucking up his coat as he found a spot to rest her against his side.

So fucking funny. There'd been this whole part of him that had been so fucking nervous about when his relationship with these kids moved into them trusting him enough that they wanted that physical affection from him. Different the both of them. Harder with Ben in some ways since he was a bit older. But Ben had made the decision himself when they'd reached hug-pick-up-and-carry territory. Em was different. He'd been even more scared and awkward. She was so little. She was a girl. He'd been afraid for a good long while he'd break her – in addition to fucking her up. But hadn't. Not yet. He hoped.

And there was just … nothing like it. Holding your kids. Your kids needing you and wanting you in this way. The way you had this fucking power to just fix all this random shit with a hug and a kiss. How problems could be solved with just that bit of affection. Putting them on your shoulders. Holding them up. And how them just giving that back to you could mend some of your problems too – at least temporarily. For a few minutes.

His kids weren't even biologically his. But it was still like this ingrained body reaction instinct that went on. Some sort of molecular level bullshit. It just changed you. Healed you. Healed you while opening you up to all these new kinds of hurt and pain and aching that you hadn't even fully understood existed.

But he wouldn't trade it. Couldn't.

Liv was right there. There was his shit. There was their shit. There was the family. And then there were the kids. And he couldn't let the first two things on that list fuck up the last two. Especially Ben and Em. Just non-negotiable.

Em grabbed the Legos back from him. "Uni-kitty," she corrected and stared more at the picture.

"Right, Unikitty," he acknowledged. He knew what the fucking thing – and the latest fucking obsession was – but her disgruntled reaction when he teased her was pretty much gold. Had Em convinced he was a lovable moron. "You going for uncle-brother of the year there Jack? Should I be asking what you want?"

Jack rolled his eyes at that. "Law School?"

"Yea, sure," Brian said. "As soon as you finish architecture school and spend the next twenty years paying off that debt, I'm sure you'll be able to afford Law School just in time for me to disown you. No bottom-feeders allowed in this fam-damily, Kid."

"Says the guy who pretty much works with lawyers all day," Jack pressed back at him – in good enough fun - and pulled another bag of the Legos out of his coat pocket, handing it over to Liv.

Em reached for it – and so did Ben. It prompted Liv to pull it close and hold it tight, giving the packaging a look. A three-in-one one. Looked like a pelican. Maybe. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

"That one's causing fights," Jack provided. "They were giving them out with the combos for the movie."

"I want that one," Ben provided.

"You got one," Jack said in a way more uncle tone than big bro. Adult in there somewhere. Maybe a whole lot.

"That one has more pieces," Big Man argued.

"It a pel-can," Em said.

"I see that," Brian allowed. "Sorta." Got a thin smile out of Liv.

"We'll share it," Liv said, pressing the package into her pocket, though Ben grabbed for it again, looking to dig it out. "Excuse me?" she pressed at him, holding him back. "You don't go into my pockets, Benji. Mine or anyone else's for that matter."

"Mom," he whined at her. "I call dibs. No one wants to put together the pelican."

"My do!" Em whined.

"And I'm out …," Jack said and gave a bit of wave and a couple shoulder bumps to each of the kids as he backed away in a bit too hasty retreat. Got the sense that it hadn't been the calmest few hours with the kiddos and Jack was more than ready to take leave. Brian got a bump too. "Hope you had fun …," he teased.

"See, comments like that leave you really dreaming in techi-color about anyone financing your never-ending academic career."

Jack just grinned and gave Liv a little chin jut. "Later."

"We'll see you this weekend?" she called at him as he started to really back away.

"Yeah, maybe," Jack mumbled.

"Million Dollar Spaghetti Sunday night!" Ben yelled at him in their family sing-song on the matter.

Jack made a bit of a face and looked at his ma. "You still doing spaghetti on Sunday? Thought you two were hitting the road?"

"Yea," Brian allowed.

"Text me in the morning," Liv said. "I'll make something if you're going to come by. Something that doesn't burn as much going in as it does coming out – like some people's spaghetti sauce."

"That's the best kind," Brian put to her.

"Agreed," Jack said and raised his hand again – really wanted to get out of there. You'd think the kid was going to try to get himself laid on a Friday night or something. Not so likely with Jack. Sometimes – way more than sometimes – Brian wondered just how different him and Jack really were. But made him worry about the kid too. About his future. What his life would look like. "Later."

"Jack," Liv called again – mother henning him, she did that … still. "Really. Do you need some cash for the movie?"

He shook his head. "C'mon. My treat," he groaned at her and really pressed back into the crowd.

"How about some 'thank yous' for Jack?" Liv prompted the kids. Apparently manners in their family wasn't exactly a strong point. But they did manage to press out a 'tank you'-'thanks' when prompted. Not exactly the good manners and positive attitudes that Liv had likely dreamed of in kids. But Brian wasn't entirely sure these were the kind of kids you dreamed about. For better or worse, though, definitely their kids. Good and bad and in-between. Most days all three.

"Sure. Enjoy dinner. The trip. The weekend. Winter break. Whatever."

And he was gone.

"Disappearing Jack," he teased Em and gave her a little bounce. It got a giggle. "So what'd you get, Big Man?"

Ben gave a bit of a grumble but dug another Lego out of his own pocket and held it up. "Emmet," he said.

"Awesome," Brian said. Teased. About the only thing he remembered from the first movie – other than ending up with migraine level auras from all the colors and flying crap cluttering up the screen for those 90 minutes – was that apparently everything was awesome. All the time. Even when it wasn't. There was a message in there somewhere.

"Not really," Ben grumbled.

"Cup half-full, Big Man. He's got a sweet ride."

Ben grabbed the package and stared at it some more. "I guess. Can I do it now? Jack wouldn't let us."

"Yep-yep! Let's do 'em!" Em agreed and pulled so quick at her package's edges that Brian barely grabbed it in time to keep it from exploding all over the dark, sticky, fake saw-dusty floor – and likely (hopefully) into the Angry Hipster gang's faces. He handed the package to Liv for her to add to her deep pockets or Mom-sized purse.

"Let's not," Brian said.

"We'll work on them tomorrow," Liv said.

"Or tonight," Ben suggested. "Instead of story."

"Dah!" Em agreed again. "In-dead of 'tory!"

"That will depend on when we get home," Liv said and again gazed toward the front of the line. There were still about five groups a head of them. "Which will depend on when we get through this line."

"So what you monsters want to sink your teeth into?" he said, knocking on Ben's forehead a bit. It got a thin smile. Kid was down. Knew why. He'd had yet another day at school.

"Beef rib?" he suggested.

Liv rolled her eyes at that. "Benji, you are lucky Mommy and Daddy put in so much over-time with an appetite like that."

Ben looked at her and just flat-lined, "Moo?"

It got a small laugh out of Liv and Brian smiled, shifting to put Em back on the ground. "Fam-Damily platter," Brian said. "We'll split the cow."

Ben stared at him hopefully. "And beans."

"Mo you eat the mo you too!" Em provided.

"Oh, then we're definitely getting the beans," Liv said with a head shake.

"And macker-cheez!" Em added.

"The sophistication of your guys palates never ceases to amaze me," Brian teased.

"And who'd they get that from," Liz gave him a little nudge.

"The one who thinks Bolognese is fine with tomato sauce and some garlic?"

"I usually pull out the Italian seasoning too," she said.

Brian allowed the comment a smile. His and Liv's ideas of cooking was another thing on completely different wave lengths.

But he just pointed off over into a table that had just freed up back in the corner near a window.

"Big Man, you want to call dibs on that one for us? No fighting with your sister," he said and gave Em a look. "No fighting with your brother."

And they bolted.

"And no running!" Liv called firmly.

They staggered to a speed walk, dodging around tables and people and trays. But they did get there in time – just as the buser finished giving it a wipe. They made some kind of comment to the kids but Ben pointed their way and Brian held up his hand to acknowledge they were theirs and then held up three fingers so the kid clearing the tables didn't decide they were too far back in line to be claiming seats just yet. They'd be over soon enough. Hopefully.

The buser didn't feel like challenging it. Likely above his pay grade. Moved out to clearing the next table. A few opening up over there. Likely a group that had all moved out together.

And him a Liv just stared at the kids. Em was already scribbling all over the paper table cloth that had been spread over there. Ben kept swiping a spoon over her way – clearly annoying the shit out of her. So much for no fighting. But that was pretty much par.

But Brian still smiled.

"You mean what you said?" he put to Liv. She gave him a look. "Yea. Right," he muttered at that look. "'Every word'."

She allowed him a thin smile. Some of her own sadness – and exhaustion – wrapped up into it. "Which part?"

He shrugged and stared at that kids. "The father stuff."

"Every word," she said anyway and found his hand again. Gripped it again. Real tight. And he didn't give her any shit about the answer he didn't want to hear. But did.

It was what he needed. They were what he needed. Some times he thought – or he just really fucking hoped – they'd be all he needed.

**Author Note:**

**For those who haven't read the Hello, Goodbye and/or Welcome Home stories of this AU. SPOILERS RE JACK AND BENJI: Jack is the son of a boyfriend of Olivia's from college (the "pregnancy scare" and/or possible abortion she'd referred to at a couple different points in the series). The former boyfriend/Jack's dad is dead. Benji is the son of Jack's older sister, who was an addict and also suffered from mental illness. She OD. Jack was assigned as guardian to Benji when he was barely an 'adult'. He knew of Olivia and 'found her'. Through a rather complicate story and situation, Olivia eventually decided to and managed to adopt Benji. Jack and her later decided to do an adult adoption of him to include him into a family. And, as a side note on that after Jack's dad died (his mother was absent from his life since he was a toddler), he was in an abusive and basically abandonment situation by his uncle while his sister was also pretty much strung-out and/or stunned and/or string of man with an infant at home.**

**WHO IS EMILY: No. Emily hadn't appeared in the Hello, Goodbye and/or Welcome Home stories yet. She was the ultimate intention of Welcome Home — it was where the story was going. And one of the layered meanings of the 'Welcome Home' title but I got a little bored with the story and frustrated with SVU and wasn't watching the series or too interested in writing for quite a while. **

**I AM NOT GOING TO BE WRITING THAT BACKSTORY OR COMPLETING WELCOME HOME AT THIS POINT. Please don't ask or pressure me there. I will give you a general summary of what was supposed to happen there, again, SPOILER-Y for those who haven't read the stories to have an understanding of Brian and Olivia's relationship in those stories.**

**But — basically what was going to happen was:**

**Olivia was going to be pretty much presented with the opportunity to foster (and eventually) adopt about 6-8 month old baby, who was a child of rape of one of her victims who ended up killing her rapist and ended up in jail (and ultimately gave up the child). Olivia decided to take this on without including Brian in the decision with where they were at in their relationship. So that strained their relationship and they ultimately took a break until he decided that he still wanted to be included in the family. But the two of them had to work through her making that decision without him and then work through who they were as a couple and what their family was going to look like. And then the dynamics of adding another child to the family, which stirred up some trouble with Jack and adjustments for Benji, etc. But clearly it worked out.**

**EMILY IS REFERENCED IN 3 CHAPTERS (INCLUDING ONE SMALL APPEARANCE) IN MY CHICAGO PD AU. You can see/read that in INTERESTING DYNAMICS (Chapter 57 — Different Light, Chapter 69 — Lucky Man, and Chapter 70 - Broken Rules). She might be referenced in a couple other chapters that Benson appears in in reference to crossover episodes too (Try SCENES, CHAPTER 50 - Dynamics).**

**A couple things you will likely need to know from the Chicago PD AU (AGAIN SPOILERS FOR THOSE STORIES) is that in it Hank Voight has a third child, who is still a teenager, ETHAN (who was a severe form of progressive MS). Also, when ERIN LINDSAY left Intelligence she initially worked with the FBI Counter-Terrorism but due to family issues STONE ultimately ended up helping her get into the Manhattan DA's Investigator's Office where BRIAN CASSIDY was her supervising officer. At this point in both AU's ERIN is on mat-leave (one-year held position) and back in Chicago (with pretty clear intentions of not coming back to NYC but not fully stated yet either). She is still in a relationship with JAY HALSTEAD (they are engaged). They've had TWINS who were born pre-maturely. At the time of this story the twins would be about 10 months old. **

**Hopefully that is helpful and clarifying to readers who are confused or who just don't want to read everything or don't want to read the CHICAGO PD AU. Hopefully you have some idea of the Chicago PD back stories of the characters just in terms of the TV show. But that should be enough to give you a general idea. You should likely know that ERIN has a past where it's been hinted that she sold herself on the street in some capacity to support her mother's drug habit (and her own). That there's been hints that Jay was likely sexual abused and/or molested while he attended Catholic high school. And that Ethan was assaulted by some other high school kids in a prank that resulted in them posting photos to social media that the family is still trying to get purged from the Dark Web.**

**In a lot of ways there are similarities between Hank Voight and Jay Halstead and Brian Cassidy in terms of personalities and who they are as men, people and cops.**

**REVIEWS, COMMENTS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED. On this story and if you do decide to go back and read anything else too. THANKS FOR READING!**


	3. Family Traits

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia wrapped her arms around Brian, pressing into his back. She knew he'd heard her coming up behind him but he hadn't given her a glance. He just stayed leaned outside Benji's door, his arm raised and bracing the frame as he gazed inside. She wasn't sure how long he'd been there. She suspected a while. She vaguely remembered her body semi-registering that his weight had shifted against the mattress and he must've been leaving the bed. But she hadn't opened her eyes and must've easily drifted back off. When she'd roused for her own nightly bathroom run, though, she'd still found his side empty and had gone looking when there wasn't the dim light from the television casting shadows into the hallway.

Brian briefly tensed as she invaded his space but just as quickly forced himself to relax as she pressed a light kiss into his shoulder blade. He still smelled like the smokehouse they'd been in. It had permeated him – likely all of them – so much she could almost taste the smoke and salt of their dinner against his bare skin.

Olivia rested her cheek against him and gazed around him into the bedroom too. For all the extra expense they'd gone to to get more square-footage and extra bedrooms for the kids to grow into, sometimes she wondered why. Because for all the bickering and nattering and all out brawling Benji and Emmy had every day of the week, the two of them still preferred to bunk down in Benji's room. It likely wouldn't last too much longer. Not with the stage-and-age and tween tantrums they were getting into with Benji hitting the double-digits. But for now it was still like neither of them knew how to sleep alone in a bedroom. Both of them still wanted nightlights on and starlights overhead. And nearly every night – to the point it was now just routine – it was a given that storytime was on the futon in Benji's room. Pulled out and pilled in with Emmy inevitable feigning sleep before the chapter was over – and her or Brian just leaving her rather than risking waking her. For now Emily's room was more of a playroom than a bedroom. For now.

"Was one of them up?" Olivia whispered against his back.

"Emmy," he rasped quietly. "Usual. Wanted a drink. Kitchen water."

"Mmm," Olivia smiled against his back. "Of course."

"Tastes better," Brian deadpanned – because they'd had this conversation and argument with their stubborn little girl over and over again. Though, she might have a point. They did have a filter on the kitchen sink and the water (and the ice cubes that the kid loved to play with on the fridge's door until reached the point they had to disconnect the thing for a while before they broke it) from the fridge's dispenser went through its own filter progress before ending in a cup. But Olivia still wanted to think at five – almost six – that their little girl should be able to fill the glass in the bathroom if they were thirsty in the middle of the night.

"Need to break that habit," she muttered against his skin. And smiled because as much of a hassle it was – as annoying it could be – she already knew how quickly your needs needing and wanting your help with little things like that was too short-lived. It'd stop before they knew it too. "She's got you wrapped around her baby finger, Brian."

"I know," he allowed. "Both accounts."

He could've just as easily told her that she was one to talk. They were both disciplinarians and push-overs in their own ways. Just like both kids had figured out what buttons to push and when. And who to go to on different matters. They both knew how to play the game. They knew what they could sway Daddy on and what they could sway Mommy on.

Olivia rubbed her cheek against his shoulder but he turned slightly in her grip, leaning against the jam now and placing his arm around her too. She let herself rest against his chest. Brian generated heat, even though there was enough of a chill on his skin she could tell he'd been standing in that doorway for a lot longer than was necessary to make sure Emmy fell back to sleep without waking the rest of the house.

"I didn't hear her up," Olivia said.

"You were out," he provided. "Tired."

"Yeah …," she muttered quietly. "Always."

Always, always, always. Sometimes it felt like she was living in a perpetual state of exhaustion anymore. Always. But some night sleep was still hard to come by. She was glad she'd managed to drift off that night. These past couple weeks the insomnia accompanying all the tension and turmoil and guilt and worry had been bad. She knew her body – her mind – had likely finally given her a little bit of relief because her and Brian had managed to connect even a little bit that evening. To start chipping away at hopefully finding some way through this.

She could feel some relief – a small reprieve from the tension – in his body too. He might be forcing himself to try – to work on this – she could feel that too. But he was also letting himself be open to it on some level. She couldn't remember the last time he'd let her hold him like this. That he'd held her back.

And that made her a sad again. But she forced herself too – to focus on the feel of where he'd placed his chin. The feel of his cheek against her head. The start of stubble that never really cropped up on him to even a five o'clock shadow point.

She stared into the room with him – against him – at the two little people they'd made their own. They'd made their family with. For better or worse. Sometimes lately it felt like the better days were few and far between. If they wanted the better they needed to focus on the little moments and small victories in any given day. Or maybe stare at them in moments like this – when they were still, quiet and not moving.

"You think their uncle touched him," Brian rumbled at a level so quiet she almost hadn't heard. It was more she'd felt it vibrate in his chest and the tension ripple there again. A near skip in his heart beat.

Olivia pulled away from him just slightly to find his eyes. He let them drift to hers – briefly – but they set back on Benji's form under the heaped covers. They weren't tangled around him from his constant flailing in the night, so she already knew that Brian had likely readjusted them for their boy when he'd tucked Emmy back in.

"You can't project on him," she whispered gently to him.

"I'm not," he said.

She sighed a bit. Exhaled. "Brian, you'll drive yourself crazy. It will hurt your relationship with him."

"I'm not," he said again. But it wasn't as firm as the first time.

Olivia backed from him a bit more and more firmly found his eyes. "No, Brian," she said. "I think Jack's told us enough, we know enough, and we've raised Benji long enough that we both know it's not him that we have to worry about that with."

He nodded – unsurely. But she felt him exhale too. Still, he scrubbed at his face. "It just sometimes feels like he's got this fucking neon flashing victim sign over his head."

"I know," Olivia allowed. "We call do. Call it a family trait."

He made a little noise at that and went back to staring into the bedroom. But Olivia pulled back more, tugging at his hand.

"We don't want to risk waking them," she whispered at him. "Come back to bed."

He let her pull him away from the kids' rooms but his hand grazed out of hers as they passed the living room. She gave him a look.

"I'm not really sleeping lately," he said and pointed at the couch. "I'll just watch some of the dummy-box so I don't keep you up."

He slunk over there and she watched for a moment, wrapping her arms around herself. But then she followed. He gave her a look but she still sat on the couch and curled her legs under her, leaning into him as he placed his feet up on the coffee table.

"I'll sit with you for a while …" she muttered, and settled herself against him again, her arms wrapping around him, settling on his chest. He let her. His arm coming up and going around her shoulder, massaging there until his hand slowly drifted and he started stroking at her hair in a way he hadn't in a long time either. She let her eyes close and feel it – enjoy it.

"I really needed tonight," he finally said at more low levels.

She hummed a bit against him. "Me too," she allowed.

She knew he didn't mean the sex – as much as he did. They'd needed to get over that hurdle too. Though, she didn't doubt there were going to be more hurdles for them to figure out how they wanted to deal with in that specific area. Ones that might lead to some more tumbles and blow outs with missteps along the way. But it'd helped. Some trust and vulnerability and confidence building in the aftermath of all this as they figured out how to rebuild. And to build him back up. Some closeness and togetherness that they hadn't invested a lot of time into in that way in far too long.

But it was taking that leap of faith – the willingness to embrace that fear and vulnerability in the moment – that had opened them enough to the rest of the evening. Out, together – as a family in a way that hadn't felt quite as loaded. Or forced.

"I think we all needed it," she added.

"Yea …," he rasped out lowly.

"I've missed you," she said. She wasn't sure she'd meant to – really wanted to – but still added, "This."

"Me too …," he whispered off into the distance.

They might not do well at sitting with a tea, holding hands and crying their eyes out to each other. It wasn't them. It wasn't how they'd ever been as individuals or as a couple. But they could manage this. They did this. And if they could figure out how to be together like this again – to make the space and time for each other again, to like the feel of being with each other again – they could work at this. They could work through it. They could just make it work. She believed it. They'd done it before. The slow chipping away in the dark as they worked through each others walls. As they reached out to each other quietly and silently bit by bit.

"You know I can't lose you, Liv," he said. "The kids."

"I'm right here," she assured. "So are they."

"Yea …"

It hung there. And she waited but he didn't say more. He just kept playing gently with her hair. And Olivia let herself close her eyes again. She just focused on the feel of his hand and the warmth of his chest. The rise and fall of his breathing. The smell of him.

He shifted a bit suddenly – enough for her to exhale and open her eyes.

"Let's lay down …" he murmured.

She made a small sound of acknowledgement and backed off him just enough for him to shift his legs to the length of the couch. But she'd settled back against him before he'd even settled into his reclined position. Her back wedged against the couch and her front draped on him. It was comfortable and warm. For her. Maybe not so much for him. Though, his one hand blindly found one of their blankets on the back of the couch and shook is over top of them, kicking it to full length with one of his feet before he again held her. Her eyes already drifting shut. She hoped he'd sleep too. Not that he'd wait until her breathing settled and then turn the TV on mute and stare at the screen some more.

"You want me to put a kibosh on the Chicago trip?" he rasped quietly again after some time.

She hummed against his chest through her haze again. "No," she allowed. "You're right. Benji could use a change of scenery. Some father-son time. It's just … I understand you needing to get away for a few days, Bri. Just don't use it as an excuse to run away."

"Yea …," he allowed again. And it sat there. "I was thinking I'd try to get us some tix to the Blackhawks. Or the Bulls. Whoever's playing in the United Center this week. That'd be cool, right?"

"Very cool …," she muttered, her eyes drifting again. She rubbed a bit at his chest, trying to calm him some more. To get him to shut his eyes too.

"Because what the fuck else is there to do in Chicago," he mumbled.

"I don't know …," Olivia breathed. "Museums."

"He'll likely just want to hang in the pool anyway," Brian said. "I checked. There's one."

"Mmm …," she hummed again. "And watch pay-per-view super hero movies in bed."

"Yea. Exactly. So if the timing's shit, I can push the meetings a week or so. Or—"

"Brian," she sighed and found his eyes again. "It's fine. Emmy's registered for day camp. We'll do some Mommy-daughter stuff."

That got a little smile out of him – because they both knew Emily's definition of activities for Mommy-daughter time were pretty different than almost anything Olivia had ever imagined would constitution Mommy-daughter time.

"Oh, yea, like what?" he grinned at her.

"Mmm …," Olivia mumbled and settled against him again. "I've been informed we're making unicorn poop."

A quiet laugh rippled in his chest and he squeezed up at the bridge of his nose in his amusement. It made Olivia smile against his chest too.

"This exist or she pull it out of her over-active imagination?" he asked.

Olivia shook her head a bit. "If it's out of her imagination, there's other little girls who are apparently her spirit animals. I looked it up. There are 'recipes'."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Just another craft store run," Olivia said. Between Emmy and Benji – and the slime craze – they really should take out stock in Elmer's glue. "It's just multi-colored, glittery slime."

"Very girlie," he said.

"Did you hear her giving me the rundown of the 'molecular chemistry' of slime at dinner?" Olivia said.

Brian shook his head. "Little weirdo."

"Our little weirdo," Olivia corrected. Though, sometimes neither of them knew what to do with Emmy and some of the stuff that came out of her mouth. She was as much of a foreign entity and an adventure in parenting as Benji was. As he still was. The two of them were entirely different experiences. She wasn't sure one prepared them for the other at all.

"She told Mom this week that she wanted a narwhal birthday party," Brian said.

Olivia smiled even more against his chest.

"She had to ask Em what a narwhal was. She got told 'like a unicorn whale'. I think Mom only heard 'unicorn' and got pretty excited."

"Mmm …," Olivia hummed again. "Well I've got a sneaking suspicion that this unicorn poop might be a dry run for a narwhal poop slime birthday party. So if the 'whale' part didn't throw your mom enough, the rest of that theme will."

They got quiet again.

"They said something to Mom this week about us 'fighting about everything'," he muttered. "She was at me about it."

"It was going to happen eventually."

Brian rubbed at his forehead again. "You think you'll be having Mom pick Em up from day camp this week?"

"Likely," Olivia allowed.

"So she's likely going to be at you about it too."

"I know how to handle your mom, Bri," she allowed.

"Just …"

"I'm not going to betray your confidence. It's your conversation to have with her. When you're ready."

"I'm never going to be ready for that. She doesn't need to know."

"Yes, Brian," she whispered against his chest. "She does."

She felt him shake his head. She felt the tension in his chest again. She held him a bit tighter.

And they lay there again.

"I've been thinking …," Olivia mumbled against him.

"About what?" rattled in his chest.

"That I've been telling myself for months that it's us that have been out of sync. And we were – are – but it's not just us. It's everything. Our schedules are so overloaded – work, kids. We're all out of sync. I think we've all been missing each other, Bri."

His hand started stroking her hair again. "Yea. Think you're right."

"And it's all going so fast, Brian," she said. "It's just disappearing. We aren't getting to enjoy it. And we're missing it. We need to … get in sync again. Figure out some way to slow down. Enjoy each other again. Like tonight."

"Yea …," he allowed.

She rubbed cheek against his chest. "Maybe we should both book off a Friday or an afternoon at least. Get out of the city for a day or two."

"Could come to Chi-Town with me and Ben …"

She sighed. "I can't. Not on this short of notice with our caseload. But we should plan for it, I mean. Make time for that. Do something as a family. Actually take some vacation time. Go somewhere. Spend time together."

"I'd like that," he said. "Just not somewhere overrun with other people's little monsters."

Olivia smiled a little at that.

"You know … sometimes … I feel like my whole identity is wrapped up in being a cop and being a mom. If you take that away what am I? Who am I? What do I have left?"

"Know the feeling …," he gravelled softly.

"Being with you – time like this, now – it helps me feel like just me, who I am, is still in there somewhere. Still exists. Matters. I think … that's part of why … it just hurts and festers so badly when we're out of sync, Bri. I'm not just missing you – or us – I'm missing me. I'm missing having you see me."

It hung there until he finally whispered far away like, "Bearing witness to each other's lives …"

Her eyes drifted to his and watered a bit. Sometimes people treated him like he was so stupid. He wasn't. He wasn't shallow or immature or dumb. He was just broken. But instead of leaving him entirely hard and scarred – it just left him with these tender spots and outright wounds. He bleed for those he cared about daily.

"I love you," he nodded at her. "I haven't really told you that enough lately."

She allowed a thin frown. "Me too," she said. "I love you too."

She settled back against him. Her nails against his chest and his fingers in the strands of her hair. And they inhaled and exhaled – and tried again to make it enough. To stop and listen – to witness the moment together. Quietly and silently. Because sometimes that was as much as they could offer. It was what they were good at.

**REVIEWS, FEEDBACK AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.**


	4. Driven Nutty

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

"OK, seriously, Big Man," Brian blurted firmly. "You're driving me nuts. Enough with the skipping."

Nanosecond later the music still skipped to the next song.

"I'm trying to find something good," Ben muttered.

And there it went again to the fucking next. With barely enough time for the first note to get out. Brian took his hand off the wheel and pulled the phone – and the tunes – out of the kid's hand.

"You've gotta listen to more than a nanosecond to even know what you're listening to."

"I can see what we're listening to," Ben said and reached to take the device back as soon as Brian dropped it into the cup holder.

Cassidy's hand deflected to go over top of it.

"Ben, seriously. Stop," he instructed hard.

"Your music sucks," Ben sassed at him.

Brian gave him a look. Kid was working on a pout over in the passenger seat. Slouching down as far as he could. Arms crossed. Glaring off into nothing. Lip stuck out far enough that he was looking for a helicopter to land on it. It was laughable.

"Oh, yea? First I'm hearing that news. Since when?"

"Since always," Ben provided.

"Right," Cassidy allowed and moved his hand back to the wheel but made sure to keep some real good on the side-eye on the kid who was side-eyeing the phone. "So then when you're the one doing the lucky thirteen hours of driving you can pick the tunes."

"I'm ten," Ben sputtered. "You're gonna make me wait like six years to pick the music?!"

Caught the kid's eyes. "Think it will be more than six. Don't know who you think is letting you drive at sixteen."

"You," Ben said.

"Not my car," Brian said.

The kid's glare stuck on him but Brian ignored it. Kept his eyes on the road – needed to anyway – weather wasn't great. Was definitely going to be taking more than thirteen hours to make this drive. Thirteen long, fucking hours. He drummed his fingers along with the music. Let Ben work on whatever the fuck kind of show it was he was trying to get an audience for over there.

"Am I being punished?" Ben finally grumbled at him.

Brian gave him a glance at that. "There something I should be punishing you for?"

Ben eyed him and fidgeted. Likely thought he was going to get a tone and attitude lecture. And he was likely getting close to it but they weren't quite there yet.

"Don't like the playlist, got your headphones," he nodded at the kid.

"For the whole drive?" Ben huffed.

Brian gave a little shrug. "Figure it out."

"Why are we even driving?" the kid huffed harder.

"'Cause why not?" Brian said.

"Cuz it takes forever!" Ben argued.

"That's part of the fun of a road trip," Cassidy said.

"It's not fun," Ben whined.

Gave the kid another shrug. "'Bout three hours too late to be telling me you don't want to come."

Another huff and arms getting crossed over there harder.

"Why are we even going to Chicago?" the kid exhaled.

"'Cause I've got to do a couple work things," Cassidy said.

"And I'm being punished," Ben said flatly.

Brian gave him another cursory glance. "Spending time with your dad is punishment?"

"You aren't my dad," Big Man tried – all whispered like.

"Yea, no," Cassidy shook his head at that and put his hand across the seat, spreading it across the little boy's chest gently. Benji gazed down at it and cast his eyes over to Brian apprehensively.

Bri caught his eyes good, kept them there, glancing between Ben and the road.

"We aren't going to play that game, Big Man," he warned him. "Just 'cause you've got your Underoos all bunched up over there. Not be your biological father – both know that. But newsflash, Kiddo, any guy can get some girl knocked up. That doesn't make a dad. I'm the guy raising you. And while I'm doing putting in the blood, sweat and tears doing that, Benjamin, we aren't going to wade into you playing the 'not my Daddy' card 'cause you think it makes you sound like a real big man. And, I catch wind of you trying out the 'not my Mom' card on your Ma, I'm goin' to have a whole lot more to say about all this in a way you're gonna like a whole lot less than this little chat. You hear me?"

It got a timid little nod. Brian gave him his own and patted lightly at his chest before he withdrew his hand.

"OK, good man," he allowed.

Car got about the quietest it'd been since they'd buckled it. Cassidy let it sit like that for a bit. Wasn't sure he liked it either. But knew the kid needed it to let it sink it.

"You said while you're doing it," Ben whispered.

Brian gave him a glance. "While I'm what?"

"Raising me," Ben whispered and gave him an even more timid glance. "Does that mean you won't be? That like you and Mom are breaking up or something?"

Brian stared at him for longer than he should again. "What? No. Why you'd think that?"

Big Man shrugged and kicked his toes against the underside of the dash. "You guys are fighting a real lot," he said and gave him another glance before staring at the scuffs he'd left on dash – that Brian didn't comment on. Brian made a little sound. "Is that why we're goin' to Chicago? 'Cuz Mom's mad at both of us?"

"What? No," Brian pressed firmly and reached to squeeze his kid's shoulder. "Absolutely not, Big Man. OK? We aren't fighting like that. We're just—"

"Are you fightin' 'bout me?" he cut in.

"Why would you think that?"

The kid shrugged in his grip. "School …"

Brian shook his head and checked the road again, gripping at his kid's shoulder a bit tighter.

"Ben, we aren't mad about your school stuff. OK?" he tried to assure, tried to keep a hold of him. "We're real worried about it. And we're trying to figure out how to get you to help us so we can help you get that sorted. Make it better for you. So we aren't mad at you either. Sometimes you're making it pretty frustrating for us. That's all. You aren't talking to us. Not coming to us. Giving us some of this lip and attitude that makes us wonder where our kiddo's at and what's happening to him. That's all. And sometimes that just hurts. Makes me and your mom a little sad. You're working at making it real hard on your mom when she just wants to help."

Ben just slumped away from him, though. His head resting against the window and his eyes gazing out of it. Brian let him but went back-and-forth between watching his driving and trying to keep an eye on his kid.

"So you are fighting 'bout my school and me …," he said.

"No, Benji," he tried again. "Me and your mom don't really fight. We don't like to fight."

"You both keep being all quiet whisper yell-y. And you keep leaving at night," Ben said. "Sometimes even before tuck-in. Like always after."

Brian exhaled slow at that. And white-knuckled the wheel. "I'm just working through some stuff right now, Kiddo. And me and your mom have been working at trying to get on the same page to do that. We're getting there. We just had a bit of a rough spot. That's normal. Happens when two people care about each other. You figure it out."

Ben traced his finger on some of the condensation on the exterior passenger window. "So we are goin' to Chicago 'cuz she's kinda mad at both of us."

Stated like it was complete fact.

Brian gave him another look, though. A bit longer one before gripping the steering wheel again and staring at the road.

"Going to Chicago 'cause I really needed a change of scenery to get some perspective," he allowed. Sometimes you just really needed to talk to your kiddos like they weren't little kids. Like they could get it. Like they did get it. "Thought maybe you could use the same. And couldn't think of anyone I'd rather make the trip with than my boy."

It got a weak little smile out of the kid. "Mom or Emmy …," he provided.

Cassidy shook his head. "Nah. Definitely wanted a boys' trip."

Ben traced his finger along the window ledge on the door while he worked at letting himself believe it.

"Other people if they like go away for Break the like go skiing or like the beach or like Florida or Great Wolf Lodge," Ben said quietly.

"That so?" Brian allowed. Kid gave a little shrug. "Who says?"

"Kids at school …"

He grunted. "What else the kids at school saying these days?" he tried. Just got a shrug. "Not going there yet?" Ben shook his head. "Know eventually we're goin' hafta hash this out, Ben." Still nothing. "Long ride, Kiddo. You've got my ear." Nothing. "OK, well, all I got for you then is that we ain't other people."

Ben gave him another little look. "There's a Transformer ride in Florida. And Spiderman. And the beach. And fishing. And Captain Cragen and Nana have a condo there …"

"Yea, sure, Peter Parker, and you think their neighbor is Optimus Prime?"

Ben gave him a little defeated look and flopped his head against the glass again. Brian stretched his arm and ruffled at his head.

"Me and your Ma have talked about goin' down to hit the beach and see the Cap. Maybe next winter. OK? So maybe work at showing me here you can handle a good long drive. OK?"

It got a bit of an almost hopeful smile. "What we doin' in Chicago?"

"Ah," Brian allowed and scrubbed at his face briefly. "How you feel 'bout seeing Toews and company upclose and personal?"

Kid perked up a bit and gazed at him. "Really?"

Brian reached and cupped at his kid's head again. "Yea, man. Really."

Ben smiled shyly at him.

"City's supposed to have some ice ribbons too, Kiddo. Talking like a half mile loop. Likely worth lacing up our skates for."

"We didn't bring 'em," Ben said.

Brian gave him a look. "Hell, yea, we did, Big Man. Got you covered. Skates and suits packed. Hotel's got a pool. Tarzan rope awaits some major Cowabungas."

Got a brighter look out of his boy that looked so fucking down anymore.

"Check out the German U-Boat these jokers have got strung up in their science center. Hit up a blues club a hit back some root beer. See find out what this so-called city thinks it knows about pizza and hot dogs. Try to figure out who the hell thought combining caramel corn and cheese corn was a good idea."

"Mom doesn't like us eating junk," he said.

Gave the kid's head a little knock. "Ma's not here." Another quiet smile. "Goin' to be lit, Big Man. Right? Saying that, right?"

Ben shrugged a little at him but smiled. And Cassidy gave him a little shake before returning his hand to the wheel.

"Good," he allowed. "So cheer up."

"Yea …," Benj allowed right back. And they say for a bit. Listened to the music. Real quiet. "Dad …?"

"Mmm …," Brian gave him a glance.

"You know you've like got my ear too if you wanna talk 'bout why you're so kinda sad and mad right now …"

And it hit Cassidy. More than he wanted to let on. Felt it hit his eyes too. But sucked it back – and in. White-knuckled that steering wheel a bit more and turned to give his boy another little nod.

"Really appreciate that, Big Man." And he got that scared, sad, timid little attempt at a smile out of his kid again. And it just hit him even harder. He looked back to the road. Had to keep going. Right there – exactly why he had to keep going.

**REVIEWS, COMMENTS AND FEEDBACK ARE MUCH APPRECIATED. THANKS FOR READING.**


	5. Tattling Stories

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

As the bathroom door opened and his kiddo came charging out, Brian hit the send button from checking in on his girls back home and put the phone down, dropping it over on the nightstand. Knew Liv likely wouldn't be hitting him back right away anyway – even though the friggin' phone might as well be growing out of her hand most days. But she'd likely be in the midst of trying to get Em into bed right now. That was always a bit of an extended battle.

Likely worse right now without having her brother there to bunk down with. Safety in numbers. Liv had already said Em had been in their bed with her the night before. She'd relented in the hope it'd mean they'd both get some sleep. Didn't sound like that had worked out too well for Liv, though. Never did. Had done about seven years of periodically having one to two flailing children thinking they should periodically occupy the master bedroom with him and Liv. Did nothing for anyone's sleep. Did do a lot for making him think they should've invested in a fucking king size mattress about seven years ago too though.

Brian sat up a bit more, propping himself against the headboard a bit more as pj-clad Big Man bounced up onto the bed too and shoved a towel at him, seating himself within easy reach.

"Think you're old enough to start doing this yourself," he said to his kid. But didn't stop him for a second from still snagging up the thing and starting to scrub at Ben's damp hair. Liv would be less than enthused if he brought Benj home from their little getaway with a head cold or ear infection. Two things that Ben seemed to excel at picking up – along with every other germ that made the rounds through the whole elementary school.

"You do the spider way better," Ben just muttered at him, his eyes setting on the TV screen to stare at the hockey he'd put on the screen. Wasn't their team – or Chicago's – but better than nothing. The kid was already unconsciously leaning into the deep, finger scrubs against his scalp that Brian was making in trying to get the last of the wet of of Big Man's hair from their post-dinner swim.

The fucking spider. He couldn't even remember how it started. Some sort of evolution out of Benji's 'cuddles and shakes' that he'd wanted when getting pulled out of the tub and towelled off when he was still just a little guy. Somewhere along the lines pawing at the kids' head with a towel got labelled as having a spider in his hair. To the point that Liv had had this whole silly song for it with the kids outside the bedtime and tub-time routine. Tickle wars. "Here's a spider on your head, on your head. There's a spider on your neck, on your neck." Etc, etc, ad nauseam. But it made both the kiddos giggle like fools.

Em still loved it – right to getting the 'farting kisses' blowed against her cheek and neck and belly with the 'spider bites'. Ben mostly pretended he'd totally outgrown it. Though, he still sometimes decided he wanted to get in on the 'tickle war' aspect of it if a family brawl was going down on the couch and definitely didn't protest getting the 'farting kisses' either. Or being the one grossing Liv out with the sound and the spittle he pressed all over her cheek.

And he still asked for 'the spider' sometimes. Not after their Sunday swims at the Y with getting his hair dried. But sometimes still at home now – even though he'd long, long ago taken over managing his own bath and graduated to taking showers. Though, he sometimes still had to be reminded to get his butt in there and manage the little boy stench after one of his hockey practices. It was more, though, that sometimes he just randomly came looking for 'the spider'. Kid would get up on the couch next to him and just say, "Do the spider, Dad." A sensory thing. But the kid wasn't wrong. Scalp massage wasn't a bad thing. Maybe it was much cooler to ask for that than to be asking for a hug when you were ten. Brian didn't know. Hadn't grown up with a dad. And his mom only said she had to be the one to start asking for – and demanding – hugs by the time he was about eight-years-old.

Supposed it was kind of the same with Ben. He'd always been cautious and restrained in how he showed – and asked for – physical affection. But also supposed that him and Liv knew why. It'd been severely lacking for Big Man during his foundational years. But also made when he did want that from you that much more special. The trust there. Even though there was also just this understanding that those experiences even when he was just a toddler had fundamentally fucked their kid up no matter how much he worked on it. And it'd just created some weird sensory and tactile obsessions with their son too. With Emmy too. In a different way from her formative months. Funny how … so much can just fuck you up in such a short amount of time.

Just funny too how fucking far out of his depths Brian sometimes felt when he was parenting these kids. Like he was about the last person in the world who should've been qualified to do it. That Liv and the lawyers and the courts must've been off their heads when they'd agreed to let him in on this whole thing. Like he was still walking some sort of tight rope where one of the powers that be was going to come back and tell him that it was all a big joke. That he was too fucked up himself to be raising a couple of little kids who were fucked in their own right.

Yet here they were. Out of his depths – but these two little human beings being a couple of the things that just grounded him. Teethered him in a way he so fucking needed. In a way that became more and more apparent the older he got. The far away he got from his past that never seemed to fade in the way he'd always hoped for. So then he'd spent so long just thinking it didn't much matter since eventually it'd just all be older. He'd take a shot on the job. Or he'd reach a point where checking out with a gun swallow seemed like a reasonable course of action. Just hadn't expected to be around long enough that the 5-0 was creeping up way too quick. And now it was more about these kids birthdays than his. Their numbers coming up and it felt like he didn't care when his number came up as long as it was after Ben and Em had at least 2 and 1 attached to their birthdays. Would like it more if it was more like he was seeing a 5 and 0 attached to theirs – not his. And it was so fucking weird to even comprehend now that he'd like to be creeping toward those triple digits himself so he could see his kids creeping towards that number he'd previously dreaded when attached to his name.

Here they were. For all the persona he'd tried to keep up. All the ways he'd tried to live his life to keep the walls up and to keep people away. To try to avoid getting fucked with more than he'd been fucked as a kid. To not end up more fucked up than he already was. To be the bad ass that he hadn't ever really been – and he knew it as much as anyone who he let get remotely close to him. Even though he tried.

Could only try – hide – it so much, who you really were, when you were drying your kid's hair and doing spiders on their head and blowing 'fart kisses' on their stomachs. Only could hide it so much when your kid still wanted you to stay close in the pool when they let go of the Tarzan rope in case they fell funny and you needed to grab them. When they wanted you to make 'tidal waves' for them and toss them up into the air to 'touch the sky'. Could only hide any of it when your kid is chattering teeth wrapped in a towel and huddled against you in an elevator on the way back up to your room and even some woman you're never going to see you again gives you some look like you've just won major cutesy Dad-porn points for having your kid down in the pool.

Made it real clear you weren't fooling anyone anymore. Least of all your family. But maybe you didn't want to be fooling them too much. Though, apparently he'd done a good enough job at least fooling Liv about some of it for a whole lot of years. Had her thinking his issues were just wrapped up in a whole lot of other issues. Daddy issues. Abandonment issues. Single mom issues. Let her project her own stuff and childhood onto him to mask some of his bullshit. Protect her from him. Protect himself from it. And it'd worked. But now they were all paying for it.

Was going to take a while to figure that out. Pay for it. Work on it. Accept it. Own it.

Brian tossed the towel away – off back toward the bathroom. He'd pick it up the next time one of them got up to take a piss.

"There," he muttered.

And his kid worked at breaking through his tough guy shield again. Flopped right against his bare chest – all exhausted like. But he'd worked hard that afternoon and evening to try to get Benj at that point. Sometimes that kid's energy levels were ridiculous. Some people say raising kids in your mid-life keeps you young. There was some truth to that. But the flip side of it was that it sometimes felt like it was pushing you toward that early grave you were trying so hard to avoid now too. Hadn't known what 'bone tired' really meant until he dove into this deal with Liv.

Ben stared at the game with him for a bit. Brian still did a bit of a spider on the kid's scalp in an effort to try to lull him off some more. That trick worked on Liv too some nights when she had herself all worked up about something. If he could get her to just stop and sit and shut off for a bit.

But then Ben's attention drifted and he started tracing at some of the plethora of scars he had all over his chest. Another of both the kids favorite activities and fascination if he dared go shirtless around them. Scars had been roadways and craters for every kind of Hot Wheel, Transformer, stuffed animal, super hero and dragon known to man.

"What's this one?" Ben asked running his finger up and down the line in the center of his chest.

And there was the next favorite activity. Storytime. Especially bedtime storytime.

"I got shot," Brian muttered. Because this was a story and a line of questioning he'd done with both kids so many times that he knew either of them could recite the hearsay they'd been told verbatim.

Ben's fingers pushed into the puckered tissue of the two actually bullet holes on what had once been actual pecs. Now that whole area was just more reason to not go shirtless in public. His kids – family, Liv – weren't public.

"These are were you got shot," Benj objected and then pressed his finger down the line again. "So what's this one?"

"It's from the surgery after I got shot," Brian said and stilled his hand a bit. Wasn't a huge fan of having his scars poked at. The kids running their Hot Wheels across them was one thing, manhandling them was another. Moved Liv's hands too if things felt a bit too much like she was set on them rather than her fingers just grazing over them in the process of whatever.

"Why'd they cut you there if the bullets were here?" Ben said and touched at the other scars again.

Brian grabbed at his hand to move it again. But Ben did a bit of their secret handshake there – pressing his forearm against his. Both their scars there together. His kid had too many scars for his liking too. Jack did too. Those kids had walked away from their situation with too many visible and invisible scars. Too many medical emergencies and accidents since then. Too many marks of life and childhood on both of them.

But Brian just swung at Ben's restless hand a bit in his. "You know this, Ben."

It did get him to settle. All out. Flopped against him again. His cheek there on his chest like the kid must be listening to his heart. Checking it was still there. Beating.

"I like it …," the kid said.

Brian exhaled a bit but rubbed at the kid's back. Apparently hockey wasn't going to be enough of story that night. A bullet he wasn't dodging.

"Bullet got real close to my heart," he provided. "An artery. Docs had to go in to take a look around, stop the bleeding. Patch me up."

"Did it hurt?"

He exhaled again and held at his boy a bit more. "I was in shock, bud. Sometimes your body – mind – does that to keep you remembering much of that."

"But Mom was there. She remembers," Ben provided.

"Yea," Brian acknowledged. "Your Ma was there."

"And she rode to the hospital with you."

"Yea. She did."

"And she was real scared," Ben said.

"See," Brian squeezed at his shoulder. "You do know the story."

"Were you real scared?" Ben asked.

"Yea, bud. In the bus I was real scared. But then I woke up in the hospital – after the surgery – and your mom was there and my mom – Grandma, your Unkie Munchie. And the docs told me I was goin' to be OK. So I wasn't so scared anymore."

"And Mom kissed you," Ben said.

"Yep," Brian allowed.

"And then you knew she'd be your Florence Nightingale."

He tilted his head and pressed a kiss into the kid's still just damp to the touch hair. Sometimes it seemed like too Liv still was his Florence Nightingale. If – when – he let her be. For better or worse. Sometimes he really wanted that. Needed it. More than anything. But he was loath to admit that. Was going to be real hard to admit that – open himself up to it, accept it, let her take some care of him – now.

"Making this bedtime story ease on me, Kiddo," he muttered into his hair. "Know all the words."

Ben rubbed his cheek against his chest. The whole feel of his kid against him changed with that comment. Brian felt it just radiate off him. So held onto him.

"But I don't …," Ben whispered.

Brian rubbed his thumb at the kid's shoulder blade. Hadn't meant to push the kid to that breaking point. Not right then. Though, had hoped maybe sometime that trip. He tilted his head a bit to just rest the side of his chin against Ben's head.

"Everyone learns differently, Benj," he provided. "It's not your fault."

Not his fault. Not his fault what his biological, teen mother had done while she was pregnant – and the challenges that had set him up for. Not his fault all she put him through after he was born. Not his fault what that fucking bastard had done to him and Jack. Not his fault what that trauma and abandonment had done to him. Not his fault the kind the kind of long-standing scars that'd left. Ones that would never heal. No matter how him and Liv worked at trying to get them to fade for him. There was still going to be scar tissue there. Always. Brian knew that.

"Everyone thinks I'm dumb …"

"Not true," Brian said. "Talked about this. Being dyslexic doesn't mean dumb. It means you think differently. That means you've got the leg up everyone else in all kinds of areas."

Ben just lay against him. "But Mommy loves books and reading."

He held at him. "So do you. And we're goin' to keep working at finding ways to make sure you keep loving all that."

"But Mom's smart and Jack's smart and you're smart and I'm not."

Brian cupped the back of his boy's head. "Benjamin, you're real smart and real talented with all kinds of things. A whole big long list. And you make me and your Ma real proud of you all the time."

"Emmy's smarter than me," he said. "She's in kindergarten and smarter than me."

"Big Man, your baby sister has her own challenges. She's not smarter than you. She's just different than you. Just like you're different than her."

"But we both like crafts and building and we both like science experiments and still everyone thinks she's smarter."

"Who's this Everyone? 'Cause no one in our family thinks that for a second."

"Everyone," Ben muttered. "At school."

"That you're way of telling me this is what some of what's been going on at school is about?"

It got nothing. Nothing but Ben poking at the puckered scar tissue again.

"Emmy thinks I'm dumb," Ben said.

"Emmy thinks her big brother is about the coolest person ever in the whole wide world," Brian said.

"Kids are telling her I'm retarded," Ben whispered.

Brian rested his mouth against the crown of his boy's head more and just held him tighter.

"That word ever comes out of your sister's mouth about you or anyone else, you tell me or your mom and we'll have a whole lot to say about it. And you want tell us who's saying that to you or Emmy and me and your mom will have something to say about it to them and their parents too."

"That's tattling …"

"We're getting way passed dealing with this being any kind of tattling, Benj. You got me and your mom just … we want to help you get some resolution to this."

"That's being a rat," Ben said.

"Yea, well, sometimes we need the Rat Squad to get a little bit of justice when the system is broken."

Sometimes. If it worked out. If it worked the way it was supposed to. When it was supposed to. How it was supposed to. In a system that was fucked in the first place. And sometimes it didn't seem like it was ever getting fixed. Sometimes he felt like a bigger fraud pretending he had any fucking clue how to fix anything.

Couldn't fix himself. But was supposed to fix the world for his kids.

Maybe that was the point. Of any of it. All of it.

Just the fucking reason to still be here. Still be fighting. To be keeping on, keepin' on.

Best he could. Better or worse.

That's what he was made for. Only thing he knew how to do. Take care of others. Because he sure as fuck didn't know how to take care of himself.

**REVIEWS, COMMENTS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Come Home

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia smiled a little as Brian's near silhouetted face back into view on the screen of her phone. The color of light hitting against him betrayed that the hotel room's TV was on – and likely a light off down in the room's entrance or bathroom.

He tapped his finger against his lip before she'd even gotten a "Hey" out and he rotated the phone slightly to display Benji passed out next to him in a complete tangle of blankets – sprawled in a way that their scrawny, 10-year-old kid was still managing to take up most of what must've been a queen-sized bed.

She'd hoped that she might've caught them before Benji went to sleep. She'd been so run off her feet all day she'd even hardly had any kind of reaction to the handful of photos that had been popping up on her screen that afternoon. And she hadn't gotten to speak to them at all. She should've known from the pictures that Brian was doing a decent job at running him into the ground – almost a necessity if you were sharing space with Benji in a space as small as an urban hotel room. Though, she still doubted getting the little boy to pass out early was doing much to help Brian get some much needed sleep of his own too.

Still, she watched – and waited – as he shifted off the bed and padded a few steps, the bright white light of the new location betraying that he'd opted to go and sit on the edge of the tub. But it was likely a good plan. Benji was a notoriously light sleeper and still even at 10-years-old it was a battle to get him to sleep through the night. It likely always would be.

The new light didn't do much for Brian, though. He looked more grizzled than usual. Just spent. And she wasn't sure he fully appreciated that his body language lately was betraying that he was coping with more than just the stress of the job balanced against the act of parenting. His head was hanging lower than she'd ever seen it. He was avoiding eye contact. He was slumping like he'd just been utterly deflated.

"Wanna switch venues?" he muttered at her and she could see that he was already moving to hit the button to switch them just over to audio. So she mounted her own interruption.

"No," Olivia said. "I want to see you."

It was firm enough that he actually looked into the camera. Looked right at her – giving that look of his. The one she regularly got when she was annoying him. Or that the tone she was using was annoying him. The tone – and firmness – she could only use so many times before he snapped at her about not talking to him like he was one of her kids. The argument that might build to the point that he'd get worked up enough to say he understood who she was and how she was and why she was like that but she didn't need to fucking emasculate him.

And she understood what he was saying. She knew what behaviors and words and language and actions and tone pushed him rubbed him the wrong way. But there'd always been moments in their whole relationship where she'd felt like she'd had to take care of him. Or just tell him off. But at the same time Brian was one of the most masculine – and Type A, macho – men she'd been with in her life. Though, knowing him she'd also known for a long time that parts of that were just a persona and not really him. And it was only now that she was starting to understand the whys and the hows of the bits and pieces behind that.

She didn't want to emasculate him. But parts of her ached to try to take care of him right now. To help guide him through what he was going through and just be there to help him find his way – because he was insistent he was going to deal with all of it his way.

"Not much to see, Liv."

She exhaled a bit herself and just kept his eyes. He only kept hers so long before he started squeezing at the bridge of his news and pressing his fingers into his pressed shut eyes. She knew Brian. That was a sign of his exhaustion – but she knew he wouldn't be letting himself sleep.

"Are you sleeping?" she put to him. Even though she knew the answer. And he knew she knew the answers because he didn't give her one. "Will you let me call Dr. Ying's for you. See if he can get you in on Friday when you're back."

"I don't need to see Ying."

"Bri, you need to sleep," she said evenly – gently.

His hand fell away from what it was doing – realizing the tell. And he stared at her. "I'm fine."

They kept eyes across the distance.

"What were you watching?" she asked.

"One of the Spiderman movies," he mumbled.

"Which one?" she asked.

"Amazing. It's the one with—"

"I know which one it is," she stopped him. She'd probably seen them all nearly as many times as Brian. Though, maybe not. Sometimes she opted out of movie afternoon when it was yet another super hero movie that got picked. She could think of much better things to do with her time. "That should help you sleep."

It got a quiet amused sound out of him. But it was followed by more heavy silence.

"Sorry I kept missing you guys today," she offered – because the silence was deafening.

He gave a little shrug and scrubbed at his face. "It's OK. Em still up?"

She shook her head and mouthed 'no'. He'd know that too. But it again betrayed he'd be more comfortable with them not talking right now and just focusing on the kids. And he had a point. There was only so much that they could say or do that would make any of this better when they were half a country apart – and it felt more like half a world apart at the moment.

She offered a little smile. "Was that the narwhal I saw with Benj?"

It got something that almost resembled a smile out of Brian. "Yea. That's Blubber Butt."

"Lovely," Olivia said with a shake of her head. But she smiled a bit too and tilted her head at him – let him see it.

It got Brian to smile a bit more and shake his head too. He scrubbed his face again. It looked like he hadn't been shaving that trip. It'd gone enough days that she could actually see scruff on his face.

"Yea," Brian provided. "Said if Em is still on the narwhal kick we should be telling people they're invited to a 'narw-ly' birthday party."

Olivia allowed a more amused sound to purse from her lips as her mouth turned up into a bigger smile.

"Yea," Brian nodded again but let his head sag a bit again too, losing the eye contact. "He's a funny kid."

"Has his Daddy's sense of humor," she mouthed at him quietly. It got him to look at her again. There was this unsurely to it – like he needed that reassurance but hadn't realized it.

"Don't think Bubbler Butt is going to make it to March, though," he said. "He's pretty excited to give it to her."

"He's a good boy," Olivia said again. "Also like someone else I know."

Brian made a small sound at that. "He's stressing she's missing out on this trip. That she's gonna be mad or jealous."

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed.

"She would've lost her mind at the science museum this afternoon," he muttered. "Unreal. Puts what we've got up in Queens to shame."

"Looked like Benj was loving it too," she allowed. "The photos you sent."

Brian made a sound and rubbed at the scruff on his cheek again. It was likely bothering him too. He wouldn't be used to having it like that. And she suspected it was at a length that it felt itchy rather than soft and subtle. She hoped it reached that point by the time they got home – or that he shaved before he came home.

"Pretty blown away by this weather exhibit they had," he said. "Tornado simulator. Got all hot to trot about thinking that's what he wants to do for his science fair. Picked up these connector things to do some tornado in a bottle experiment."

She thought about that and made a listening sound giving a little nod. Brian pressed at his forehead.

"He pointed out he didn't pick up one of those project board things before going on recess."

She made another little sound and nodded. "I'll pick one up," she allowed.

Brian nodded again. "Weekend activity … Try to whip through it. When we're back."

"Sounds like a plan …"

Silence sat between them again.

"He's doing OK?" she asked finally.

"Yea. As good as he ever does when his routine is switched up."

Olivia allowed a thin frown – a failed attempt a smile of acknowledgement. It was funny. She'd been so militant with establishing routines for the kids and for the family. For their sanity. Because it just worked better. But Brian always liked the routines too. The structure and order and predictability of their home life – as predictable as it ever was. She'd spent a long time thinking it was a combination of him being supportive and his efforts to assimilate into the family unit too combined with him just wanting some stability and predictability after spending so long on a job where you ujst didn't have that. But again she was starting to realize the structure – known routine and schedule and faces – didn't just have to do with that. There were other reasons she should've seen hints of.

"Don't think they must to the mid-winter recess here," Brian mumbled. "Really haven't been crowds."

"That's good," Olivia allowed. "And he's doing OK at the office? Your meetings?"

Brian shrugged. "You know, Ben. Leave him with his sketch book and colored pencils and lose him down a rabbit hole."

She allowed a little smile at that but asked, "You didn't see if Voight's boy could watch him?"

"Like I said, don't think school's are on break here," he rasped with an edge.

"OK …," she allowed. "What about Erin?"

"What about her?"

"Are you going to see her? Is she at these 'meetings'?"

"Yea, I don't know. Maybe tomorrow," he mumbled. She doubted he'd called or tried or would. That wasn't Brian.

"OK. What about you? Your meetings?" she repeated. "How are they going?"

He scrubbed longer at his face and exhaled. "Yea. I'm not happy with some of the shit that got sent over to our offices to make this case. I don't know. We'll have to see how some of this cross-boundary shit and inter-office relationships really play out. Might have to send some of my guys this way to redo some of the legwork. Which is real clear is going to go over like a fucking A-Bomb. But it's just not going to stick right now. Not at home on these bastards. And don't think they're going to be thrilled sending it back here to prosecute. Won't want to let go of the case." And he squeezed at his nose again and stared at the ground – not her. "I really don't need this Dark Web bullshit right now. It's the kind of shit that really keeps you up at night. Real images you can't get out of your head."

"Maybe you should take a few weeks off," she offered quietly.

His hand fell away and he shook his head at her. "Liv." There was some warning to it.

"No one is going to think any less of you if you need to step away for a bit, Brian," she tried.

"Oh really?" he pressed. "Because if people aren't talking enough about me getting up on that stand – taking some time off now is really gonna make it look like I've got all my shit together."

"I'm proud of you getting up on that stand," she said. "And I'd be proud—"

"Just don't," he shook sighed at her and went back to squeezing at his temples like she was giving him a migraine.

"Bri—"

The hand dropped away and he glared. "We aren't going to do this over Skype, eight-hundred miles apart."

She held up her hand in surrender. "OK …" she acknowledged. "You're right."

The hand went back to his temples. "Is Em doing OK this week?"

Olivia shrugged a little. "She misses her Daddy and brother. So do I." It didn't get a reaction – he just kept staring off at the ground and squeezing at his forehead. He likely thought it was lip service. It wasn't. "Sometimes I forget how much harder this is to do this on my own." That got a look. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder …"

He made an amused sound at that and managed to sit a little straighter. "She running you ragged?"

Olivia shrugged again. "Not really. Just … life."

"Crap week at the office?" he tried.

And she shrugged again. "Stone is calling me as a witness on a case that I really don't think I should be testifying for. So neither of us is too fond of the other right now. And we caught a rape at a brothel that we've had to hand over to IA due to certain players."

"Of course," Brian muttered and kept her eye. "Definitely a crap week."

"Mmm …," she acknowledged. It felt almost standard anymore.

"Emmy's doing OK with camp, though? Not at you too much to be her entertainment committee?"

"Emmy is loving camp," she allowed. "They did 'ninja training' today, which I get the impression was an obstacle course that combined gymnastics with parkor. So that's blown her little mind too. It took a while to get her to calm down and stop with the motor-mouth about it."

"Big Man will be seeing green," Brian acknowledged.

"Oh, she already knows. She's really looking forward to telling him that she got to do real life Ninjago."

Brian almost smiled. "Salt in the wound. He's already pretty broken up he missed out on the uni-poo."

"He didn't miss much," Olivia mumbled. "It did pretty much looked like poo after she squished all the colors together."

"Shit," Brian deadpanned.

She smiled a bit. He was funny. But sat back into the couch cushions. It was feeling so strange the past few nights not having him there with the TV on. Even when they felt miles apart on that couch – sitting at opposite ends and not touching and not talking – she still had him there. Right now she wanted him there. And she wanted to be there with him – for him – too.

"I've been thinking about this slime birthday push she's doing, Bri," she allowed. "I really can't imagine doing that in our house. It will be a such a mess."

He grunted a bit. "Been thinkin' on that too a bit. Thinkin' maybe we should just put a kibosh on this whole party thing. Just go to the aquarium or something as a family. Pocket the rest of the dough for something else. Save ourselves the headache."

Olivia thought on that and pressed some stray strands of hair behind her ear. That was usually his job in the evenings on that couch. "I don't really know we can do that," she said. "People are going to be expecting—"

"Who?" Brian interrupted. "We can have Ma over for cake."

"There's Amanda's little girl. Carisi's niece and nephew. Fin might want to have Ken and his grand—"

"Can do the fucking play-date thing with all the extended, extended family of your subordinates some other time."

She sighed at that. There was tone – and truth behind it. Brian didn't love when she had people from work over. But she'd allow that some of her unit didn't seem to hold Brian in the highest regard. She didn't know if they were just being over-protective in their own way – but it all just came across as judgemental from all the parties involved. And sometimes hypocritical. She told herself that they didn't know Brian the way she did and he didn't know them either. But it still made it hard when those two sides of herself and her life met. But she also hated that she often ended up feeling like she needed to have two separate families. Or like she had to regulate Brian off into his own little sphere whenever the two parties did meet.

"There's her class," was all Olivia provided, though. "She's been getting a lot of invitations. We've been going. We need to—"

"Issue invitations," Brian said flatly and looked at her. "And what if her whole fucking class comes, Liv? When we're lucky if we get one or two kids out to Ben's parties? With all the shit the kids at that school as tossing at him right now? How's that going to make him feel?"

She frowned at that realization – and logic. There was real, hard truth to that assessment. It would have to be a consideration. Brian was right. He often was – and even when he wasn't he always brought her a different prespective to these kinds of conversations and decision.

"Has he said anything about what's going on there?"

Brian made a noise and rubbed at his face more. "There's layers to it," he mumbled.

"So, peel back some of the onion for me …"

He exhaled and stared at her. "That militant mom that's always up on her soap box," he nodded at her. "One that gave me the whole 'I know who you are' lip."

"OK …," Olivia allowed. She did know who Brian was talking about. An activist Mom who wasn't afraid to let the entire school community know where she stood and what she stood for. And she definitely didn't like cops.

"She's got her kid in Ben's face about us being cops and apparently how we're the plague on America."

"I doubt that's what's being said," Olivia mumbled.

"It doesn't matter what's being said," Brian spat. "He's a little kid. He's not a cop. He doesn't need some adult woman recruiting her fucking daughter to go at him about what we do for a living. Like, yea, lady Black Lives Matter. I get it. I'm with you. Agreed. But know what – my fucking kid's life – his fucking mental health and personal space and safety and self-esteem and self-worth - matters too. And your kid is being a fucking bully to a little boy because I'm a fucking cop? Seriously. What the fuck? But I say that to anyone and I'm the one with the problem."

Olivia took her turn to pull her hand down her face. "OK …," she allowed. "Let's assume the mother doesn't know what her daughter is repeating on her behalf. And I'll be the one who talks to her on our family's behalf."

"Yea, good luck with that," Brian muttered and shook his head. "You know. I feel like we're at the point that I need to tell my son that he's got to just stand up for himself – and if that means getting in someone's face and pushing back, do it, take the detention or the suspension. We'll handle it. But I can't even do that because what do I say? Get in the face of some fucking mean little girl? I don't know."

Olivia sighed. "I'll put some thought into how … we teach our son to best deal with a situation like that."

Brian squeezed at his temples. "There's another posse that's clued into the dyslexia thing too," he nodded at her. "Or just decided he's different enough that he makes an easy target. Retarded language is getting floated around. Apparently they're trying to get that word in Em's vocabulary too."

Olivia exhaled. "OK …," she managed as her heart broke and sunk a bit more. "We're going to have to … schedule something to go talk to his teacher—"

"Oh, fuck his teacher, Olivia," Brian exhaled and looked at her through the miles. She could get the frustration and anger and sadness dancing in his eyes. The projection. "We've been going back and forth on this with her all year. Jack's older than her. I don't fucking care. We're going to escalate it. I'm sick of it. My son isn't going to be made to put up with another fucking … four months of this bullshit. We aren't going to keep dealing with the fall out of it at home. What it's doing to our boy. Our whole fucking family."

"OK …," she allowed. "I'll schedule something with the principal. For both of us to go in."

And his head slumped again. "He asked me if he shouldn't be a cop because everyone hates cops and if he can't be a firefighter because he's too dumb."

"I hope you told him that we'll do our best to help him be whatever he wants to be," Olivia said evenly.

Brian allowed her a weak little smile and gazed at her – beyond her – for a long time. "At the State Attorney's office there, Jefferies is trying to play nice with me. Says I should take Ben over to this restaurant that's a converted firehouse – since the kid wants to be a firefighter. I think, sure, Big Man would get a kick out of that. Get there and place is like fine dining. Ass-hat."

Olivia smiled thinly. "Take it you didn't go in?"

Brian shook his head. "Kind of place I should take you for a meal, not my 10-year-old." She allowed a quiet smile. And he stared at her again for a long time. "I should take you out more …"

"I'd like that …"

His eyes found her on the screen – really looked at her. "Really missing you and Emmy Girl."

"We really miss you and Benji," she said. She could see the flicker in his eyes that he was trying so hard to hide.

"Don't know my way's working here, Liv."

"Then come home, Brian," she pressed firmly.

"I'm not ready …," he said almost inaudibly. "I've got to—"

She shook her head and gripped at the phone. She wanted to grip at him. "The hardest part is over, Brian. Now you get to start healing. Nothing is going to change – expect what has to change."

"Yea, and what's gotta change, Liv?"

"How we – not you – we, Brian, deal with this. Come home."

She wanted him home. Needed him home. Maybe that's what he needed to hear.

"Please, Bri. I need you here. I need you."

And their eyes connected again. Steady and silent.

"Come home …" she mouthed.

**REVIEWS, COMMENTS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED. THANKS FOR READING.**


	7. Life Loves

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

"I can still feel your whole body humming," Olivia muttered off into Brian's shoulder.

It got a real hum. "Mmm. Residual highway hypnosis," he said.

"Mmm …," she acknowledged. Though, she wasn't sure she'd associate that with the physical vibrations – the agitation – that she felt pulsing in him.

But Brian always had some of that. Always a little restless. Sometimes more than a little. Even when he was home – with her, with the kids – he was always quietly buzzing. Fidgeting. He wasn't very good at sitting still – even in his supposed downtime while he was unwinding. While he was just staring at the television. His knee was always bouncing. The remote along with it.

They'd gotten Benji a fidget cube years ago. It hadn't really held Benji's interest or helped with some of his anxiety at all. But it hadn't gone unused. Brian had quickly claimed it. And the kids' fidget spinners – that got treated like ninja stars. But it hadn't been Benji's and Emmy's insistence they also get thrown across the house like ninja stars that had prompted her to make the things 'disappear'. It'd been Brian's relentless fiddling with them – the constant clicking and clacking and swooshing – long after the kids were in bed and he was still absently staring at the television.

She'd often thought his restlessness off the job was just a way of trying to manage his hyper-vigilance at work. The constant perception and observation needed on the job – especially when he'd been undercover so long. He'd needed to be on all the time. And when you were on that long it became hard to learn how to turn off – or even turn it down. It meant he was money on the job – despite his hot head and short fuse. But sometimes it drove her crazy.

Though, she'd been forgiving off it, even though she sometimes feared that low level of constant agitation was rubbing off on the kids. But she was one to talk. She knew she had her own level of hyper-vigilance that manifested itself in complete over-protectiveness, and 'hen pecking' as Brian sometimes called it if he felt she was turning into a bit too much of a helicopter parent. But he was one to talk there too. He could hover too. In a different way than her. But he still did. For his own reasons – more reasons than she'd previously thought.

She'd reached the point where she sometimes thought that Brian's restlessness might be what Benji needed. A man in his life – masculine energy – to redirect some of that energy. To learn how to deal with some of his own restlessness and fidgeting and anxiety and agitation. To learn how to focus it. And in some ways – a lot of ways – Brian had been really good about that too. He never, ever complained about the kids' sports and activities schedules. Sometimes while she was feeling like they really needed to cut back, he was looking for something else to sign them up to or something else to take them out to on a Sunday afternoon. The practices, the games, the open gyms and family swims – he'd be at nearly every one no matter his schedule. He always seemed to sort his schedule to make an appearance even if he was having to go back into the office after it. He'd take them to the park and to the playground and run around the soccer field with them. He'd hit the basketball court and toss them the footballs and lace and relace their skates. Sometimes she didn't know where he got the energy for it – even if he didn't sleep.

Olivia had reached the point where she'd directly asked him if he'd been investigated for hyperactivity or ADD as a kid. She wasn't sure it was an exact fit – but at the same time some of his those traits in him confused her. He'd been offended. She supposed that was understandable.

Though, it hadn't stopped her from inquiring discretely with his mother if that'd ever been suspected and it just wasn't something that was assessed in quite the same way in the schools back in the 70's and 80's. She'd said she was curious because of Benji – and that was true. Signs and coping and strategies. But Janet had said not. In retrospect, she'd actually said that Brian didn't start with all his restless energy and problems at school until he was about eleven. But she'd thought it was just puberty and all those male hormones pulsing through him. That it was just boys than age and then having a teenaged son. There hadn't been any problems with his grades until into middle school and high school when he just started doing the bare minimum he needed to get by. But she also hadn't thought much of that because Brian had said from the time he was a little boy – watching her get beaten by his father and taking punches of his own – that he was going to be a cop. And the requirements to get into the NYPD back then were so different. High marks and a degree didn't matter. He just needed to breeze by and do some community college until he was old enough to start at the academy.

And Olivia had accepted the conclusions of that talk. It made sense. It sounded a lot like the Brian she knew. It made a lot of sense for what she did know about children from a domestic violence situation. And it matched the spotty narrative he told her of his childhood and early adulthood up until his late-20s when they met. She hadn't delved too far into it. She didn't want him profiling her childhood and formative year as a child of rape to a single, alcoholic mother while growing up in the shadows of a prestigious university that she'd never even considered applying to despite the faculty breaks she could've gotten. She knew there were a lot of conclusions that could be drawn and questions asked and comments made if either of them went too far down the road of thinking about where they'd come from and what made them the people they were today.

So she hadn't asked. She'd told herself she'd only been curious for the sake of their children how. For ways she could help. For things Brian might understand better than her. For coping mechanisms.

But maybe she should've asked. She should've thought about it more. She should've played detective. She should've played fucking SVU detective and seen the signs and symptoms. Twenty years ago. And now – while she was living with the man. Sleeping with him. Making a life and a family with him. Raising children with him.

And she hadn't.

She didn't know what that said about her. As a life partner. As a romantic partner. As a friend. As a mother. As a fucking cop. As an SVU detective. As a decent human being.

Olivia had found herself wondering how much Cragen realized all those years ago. And right now – she found herself thinking he'd known – he'd seen it. It'd been the real why behind the why he'd encouraged Brian to move on – without shame. But she also knew she couldn't ask. Just like she knew having the Captain tell her he'd seen that twenty years ago wasn't going to do anything to help her with her guilt in not seeing it now.

She found some solace in knowing that she didn't think John had seen it. That it had blindsided him too – even though it made a lot of sense now. But hindsight is always 20/20. That Brian had managed to pull the wool over everyone's eyes for years and years while burying deeper into himself. And yet he'd trust her to show her these other little pieces of himself. For her to know him – or she thought she had. To see the soft, tender, funny side of him. The caring, doting boyfriend and father – who was far from a romantic and regularly struggled with … intimacy, conversation. But who really tried to show how much he cared through just being present. She didn't get the unruly, antagonist that moved between talking too much and playing daggered eye mute. He guy who pushed people's buttons like he wanted them to hate him and like he wanted them to think he was some tough asshole. And maybe that's who he wanted to be – because there were pieces of him that hated himself and blamed himself. Parts of him that would never believe that he was a good cop and great detective and wonderful father.

"I don't know how you do drives like that in one go," was all she muttered into his shoulder again, though.

Because right now she was just so happy he'd come home and he seemed in one piece. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to add to his agitation. She wanted to help him calm. She wanted to be an anchor for him – not as some old woman he felt stuck with because they'd agreed to raise a family together. She wanted to be there for him – his friend. The love of his life – the most sloppily romantic statement he'd blurted at her so awkwardly more than a year ago. But she hadn't reacted and embraced it and reciprocated it the way she should've back then. Not in the midst of the stress that case and trial and his testimony had placed on their relationship and their family and his career and both their jobs. And she felt guilt about that too – because maybe if she'd reacted differently, heard it in a different way – as some sort of plea for help in that moment – this slide they'd been on in the past year wouldn't have gotten this far. They wouldn't be this far down in a hole trying to figure out how to scale out of that pit now with this mess all around them and threatening so badly to pull them both further down.

"I like it," he stroked at her hair through the dark of their bedroom. "Helps me think."

"Are you going to be able to turn your mind off and sleep now?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe."

"Maybe you should go take one of my pills," she whispered. "Your body doesn't feel like it's going to let you sleep."

"I don't need pills," he muttered.

Olivia breathed in his scent. "I just …," and she stopped. "I want you to sleep."

"I can think of a better sedative than putting that crap into my body," he said. There was a teasing tone – a flirtatious as Brian ever was with her.

But he'd never really needed to be that way with her. She'd always appreciated his directness with her about what he needed and wanted from their relationship when it came to sex. His willingness to wait for her and work within her terms and conditions. To accept her boundaries and to be to the point about his. Maybe she should've read more into just how much of a pre-negotiated transaction that part of their friendship and relationship had always been.

Still, she held at him. "You never sleep after sex, Brian," she whispered against him. "I'm starting to understand why."

His other hand – the one not wrapped around her – pressed at his forehead. "I'm definitely not going to sleep if we do this now."

She just stared down him – down the foot of the bed – in the dark. She was scared for him. She was scared for his relationship with Benji. For their whole family. Benji was almost Brian's age when it happened. They were going to need help. But she didn't know how to get Brian to see that – before he triggered and fell more into the depths of PTSD than he already was.

He'd accused her before of never baring her soul to him. But she didn't think – knew – he never had either. Now. And she wondered what that was going to mean for their relationship and family. The things they did and didn't talk about in the past and now going forward. To learn how to do that – talk, communicate, be open and intimidate – in a different way. In a way she wasn't sure she was comfortable with either. In a way that scared her.

She'd done therapy – so many hours of it. And this still scared her. Going in and talking about this – him and how ineffective she'd been as a partner to him. How much she felt like they needed guidance – not just with what Brian was going through but with how to handle it as a couple.

But if it scared her as a … girlfriend, life partner, a near common-law spouse – as a woman, she was realizing despite years on the job she was having trouble even being to fathom how much it was scaring Brian as a person and as a man. As a spouse and lover and father. As a cop.

She couldn't even bring herself to broach yet that they needed to go to couple's therapy or family therapy. Her going to the therapist to talk about it – him going to his own therapist to talk about it (which he'd already said he wasn't going to do) – wasn't going to be enough. They needed … help to learn how to navigate this together as a team in a completely different way than they'd dealt with some of the other shit that had been thrown at them. It was so much … baser and to the core. It hurt and it ached constantly. It'd just been in the pit of her belly and a tight ball in her chest for weeks now. It was eating her apart from the inside out.

And if they didn't deal with this – together as much as individually – what was this going to say to their children. What did it show them about being men or a woman? What did it teach them about being a couple? About being a good friend? About being a strong family? About communication and intimacy? About being decent human beings?

This might not just tear them apart as individuals – or as a couple. This might slowly split their family at the seams if they didn't find a way forward.

"I scheduled the meeting with Benji's principal," was what she managed to offer instead.

Brian just grunted recognition.

"I think it's going to be a busy weekend," she said and exhaled, shutting her eyes against him.

"Yea?"

"Mmm … hockey, swimming, science fair experiment."

"Library," he provided.

"Chores," she said. "Laundry. We need some groceries."

"We're out of milk," he mumbled off to the ceiling.

"Sorry," she allowed. She knew he liked a glass of milk at night before he did lay down. "This week just got away from me."

His cheek bone rubbed against the top of her head. "I'll do a run to grab it in the A.M. Eggs. OJ. Do up a big breakfast for everyone."

"That'd be really nice …" she acknowledged.

He only made a noise to indicate he'd heard her. But it was a Brian thing. Saturday mornings he always had breakfast on the table for everyone. Waffles. Pancakes. French toast. Omelettes. Toad in a hole. Bacon. Ham. Sausage. Homemade hashbrown potatoes. He rotated through. And they'd all become so accustom to it, she wasn't sure they even gave him a 'thank you' anymore. She was almost sure more weekends than not, the kids' claimed their plates and went to stuff their faces in front of cartoons and even though she sat at the table with him, she usually stared at her phone drinking coffee rather than catching up with him.

They were out of sync. Not just as a couple. As a family.

"Your mom invited us over for dinner on Sunday night," she said. "She said she'd do a roast."

She felt his lips pressed into her hair. "Sounds good," he mouthed.

"Yea …," she acknowledged. Any meal she didn't have to cook sounded good to her. Even if it meant spending a few hours at Janet's.

"You let Jack know?"

"I wanted to make sure you were home and up to going," she said.

And he just made a small sound again.

"Something's up with him," she provided. "He's seemed off. I haven't been hearing from him much."

His cheek rubbed against the crown of her head again. "Likely just busy with school and work. Or just being Jack."

"I'm starting to worry about him too."

His lips pressed into her hair again. "He's fine, Liv."

"Like you're fine?"

It sat there. And his mouth stayed there. His body continued with that restless vibration under her.

And she let it. For a while. A long while. But she wasn't going to sleep either.

"Bri …?"

"Yea …?"

"You're the love of my life too," she said.

And he finally stilled just slightly – just enough that she could feel a change in his vibration.

"I should've told you that a long time ago."

He held at her. He stroked her hair more.

"You were right, Brian. You are right. We've had a lot of good times. Just so many. Together and with the kids. We've got so much love and mutual respect for each other. Happy memories. Strong, strong foundation. We're just … able to see the good in each other. To be proud of each other. And I just … I love what we've done here together. I love you."

"I love you too …" he said so quietly after a long, long beat while he held her so still and so tight.

But she pressed up out of that grip and found his eyes. "Do you want to make love, Bri?"

She saw him sputter for a moment at that. That so often didn't phrase their sex life – their relationship – around that. And maybe it wasn't what he needed or wanted or was capable of in that moment. But she also thought it was. And she also knew it was what she needed and wanted right now so badly. What she wanted – needed – him to know she was capable of in their relationship.

"Do you …?" he finally managed to get out.

"Yea, Bri," she said. "I do."

And she found his lips. He hesitated for just a moment but then he kissed her back – his arms wrapping back around her more tightly again. Clinging onto her – and them and this. And she did too.

**COMMENTS, FEEDBACK AND REVIEWS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED. THANK YOU FOR READING.**


	8. Sleeping Late

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Brian glanced up as Liv appeared just outside the kitchen entryway.

"Morning, Sleepyhead," he murmured a little absently at her. Some acknowledgement she was up and on the go. Finally.

She made a little sound. He'd heard her in the can and could see she'd worked at taming some of the bed-head – and the frizzed tangled mess of what they'd got up to in the wee hours – and had likely washed her face a bit too in trying to wake up. But she still didn't look that awake. Apparently the solo child-minding on the work-front and home-front had done a number on her that week.

Though, Brian knew part of it was also likely that all his shit – and her thinking she needed to take care of him and this, fix it her fucking way, which just wasn't his fucking way – was likely doing a number on her too. Keeping her up at nights too. Liv went down rabbit holes. Worried herself sick sometimes. Literally. Did it with vics. Did it with the kids. But he wasn't going to let her treat him like on of her vics or one of the kids. Grown-ass man. Gotten this far. He could sort it out. Just figuring out the different lens some of the world was looking at him under now. New labels that he didn't fucking want. But that was his problem. Not hers. She needed to learn to accept that. He didn't want to fight about it. Loved her – and what they had – too much to let it be a thing.

He thought maybe she was starting to get that. Maybe they were starting to get on the same page. That they could just sorta be again. Be themselves. Be this family – such as it fucking was.

Liv was still in her typical weekend lounge clothes, wrapping her sweater she was still pulling on around her mid-section a little bit tighter.

She was getting a real late start and actually looked like she could use a couple more hours sleep. Though, he also knew she'd be making a comment about how late he'd let her sleep. Still, had let her. And Big Man.

The both of them had passed out good. Managed to waste away a couple hours of their usual early mornings – even on Saturdays. Their usually fucking insane Saturday mornings. But that was OK. Maybe taking a day – or weekend – to slow down a bit wasn't such a bad thing. Not this constant pre-occupation and distraction and overloaded schedules that he had a bit of a love-hate relationship with. But it seemed like as him and Liv started to form more sentences together that didn't escalate into a fucking argument – when he so fucking hated fighting with her – just kept coming back to they were out of sync and they needed to slow down. Smell the roses a bit. Enjoy each other a bit. Be there for each other in a way that wasn't just getting food on the table, making sure homework was done and schlepping kids to school and their next extra-curricular. There was truth to it.

So he hadn't bothered with rousing her – or Ben – to get going for their usual Saturday insanity. He figured either their internal alarms would go off and they'd be on deck or that their bodies – and minds – just really needed the power down. And in that case – let them both sleep.

They had. So him and Emmy Girl had been left to their own devices. But Brian was OK with that too. Play some catch up from the time he'd missed out with her that week. She'd made sure to point out in the process – repeatedly – that she couldn't wait until she hit her double-digits and got to go on a 'Daddy Trip'. Clearly Liv had had to be doing some spin while he'd been out of the building. Not that he was necessarily opposed to the idea of taking Duckie for a daddy-daughter getaway at some point in the future. Wasn't too sure how he felt about the concept of their baby girl hitting double-digits, though. But sure hadn't been too thrilled when Big Man hit the Big 1-0 either.

Scared the shit out of him in a whole lot of ways. He was still such a little kid but was also growing up way too quickly. And knew how instantaneously childhood could just be ripped from you. Had been broken for Ben in a lot of ways as it was. There was lost innocence there from the get. Hard to believe soon he'd be a teenager and then a man. That he was headed toward middle school. And then it'd be high school. And then who know fucking what. And still felt like they had so much to teach him and help him through. And Brian had already seen how quickly time went by and just disappeared on all of them. That that little four-year-old kid attached to Liv at the hip – who'd pretty much sealed the deal for him – was ten. How the fuck did that happen?

How the fuck could the little baby girl he'd held in his arms and changed diapers on be a little walking, talking kinder Einstein? Planning in bossy detail her sixth birthday and already looking forward growing up even more – already and too fast? No one fucking tells you how fast it all goes after there's little people there to mark off the time with. That all those lifetimes you'd lived before – that seemed to drag and blur into one giant black hole – just disappeared right down a black hole along with time. Just all just got sucked up and disappeared in a blink of an eye if you weren't watching. Kids growing faster and faster every day. And in another blink of the eye this life time – the twenty he was going to put in getting these two to their twenties – was going to be another lifetime that just went. But it wasn't one that he wanted to just go. Or one that he could stand just smearing and blurring into the mix of all the other giant messes that were the first forty years of his life.

"You shouldn't have let me sleep so late," she murmured at him – as expected.

And she was right. And wrong. He'd let her miss some of that time that moved by so quick. But sometimes you did need to slow down to enjoy that time. Fucking weird mix for him right now. A strange acceptance. Wanted time to go faster so the pain – and the memory, collectively and individually – disappeared. But didn't want any of the time here – with his kiddos, with her, with this only good thing in his life – to disappear along with it.

But it was becoming increasingly clear that he couldn't have it both ways. He was trying to cut it both ways and it wasn't working. Couldn't figure out where to draw the line and make the split. And all that compartmentalization he'd managed for fucking years – it was like the bottom of the box had just given up and now he had people picking up all the contents of his life off the floor. And rather than just handing them back to him for him to pack away again, it was like they wanted to sit down and take a real long look at each item and have a chit-chat. Like his kids were getting called over to the couch to take a look at some kind of family albums that he didn't want them to see. Stories he didn't want told them.

Liv came over and planted a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head just enough so they could catch the corners of each other's mouths. She'd brushed her teeth too. All minty even with just that smear they'd caught of each other.

"Needed it," he muttered at her and looked back to what he was working at on the stovetop.

Didn't need it to burn at this point. Had actually been hoping the sizzle of the food might rouse her. At this point.

They were already moving into brunch territory. Took too much longer for her to get up and on the go and he was going to be looking at more serving her lukewarm lunch. Reheat value on this dish went way down.

"Something smells great," she muttered again as she went to self-serve the food he already had on the ready for when she did get that ass of hers out there. But then she was back. The warm cup pressing into the small of his back and the heat of her lips pressed briefly into the shoulder of his layered hoodie as she stared over his shoulder and at the stove top. "Mmm. My favorites?"

He smiled a little at that as he worked to flip the second-last piece of French toast he had on the go – and to manage the bacon at the same time.

Liv was super picky about how she liked her bacon. It'd taken a lot of Saturday off-sked mornings to get it down to a fine art. Few seconds too long or too little and she'd be skipping it. Had to be the right thickness from the right butcher with the right amount of fat on it for her indulge too. Just like the French toast was all about the bread, the real maple syrup and the fresh strawberries and blueberries no matter what time of year it was.

"Think you earned the sleep and the breakfast," he provided.

He felt her lips smile against his shoulder as she stayed pressed against him.

He liked when she did that. It'd been a while since they'd been like that with each other. And they were only ever like that so much. It was this fucking weird line. These multiple sides he'd gotten to know of Olivia Benson. Her in the box at work with a perp. Her as a boss. Her as an advocate for victims. Her as a mom. Her as his partner – lover (as much as he fucking hated that word in that context) – at home.

There were different levels to how much of a hard-ass she could be. And she could definitely still be a hard-ass at home. With the kids. With him. She could be a ball buster. She could rip you a new one. You could do something to flip her switch real quick in that way. But age or the kids or just life – and his own distance from SVU or just fucking changes in society and the NYPD – he'd gotten to see more of her feminine side come out over the years. Becoming a mom had definitely made that side of her a bit more stark – until you got on her bad side.

Sometimes he wasn't too sure what to do with it when too much of that side of her was showing. Brian knew he was far from a grand romantic. Knew there were likely a lot of ways that maybe he more than missed the mark in what she wanted and needed out of him that way.

Though, he tried. Knew Liv loved the subtle bling. Didn't matter how fancy or tacky or just fucking completely plain Jane the jewellery was. If it was sparkly and you'd taken the time to pick it for her – she was likely going to like it. Necklaces, pendants, charms. A few diamonds and pearls here and there over the years. Bracelets. She always seemed appreciate it. Flowers too. Though, that never seemed to make as much of a splash – especially if he sent them to work. He did a whole lot better taking her out for some good pasta, an expensive glass of wine, or ridiculously priced but insanely decadent chocolate cake.

Brian worried a lot, though. Like he wasn't doing enough. Wasn't treating her the way she wanted or needed. Maybe he related to – liked – her rougher side a bit more. It was a bit more his speed. But the same time, he liked when she got soft with him. Lovey with him – at home, in private. Like now. Like this. Just knowing she was there. Feeling like she wanted to be there. Watching him work.

Work at breakfast – another small little … thing … in trying to show her how special her was to him and the kids were.

Work at convincing himself that this was actually morning-after afterglow. That Liv wasn't just putting on some little show for him – or putting out for him, period. But maybe he'd always kind of felt that way, period. He'd always been a little self conscious in the bedroom and he always thought she'd catch on and call him on it. That she'd say something. Just that he'd always been getting way more out of it than she ever had – because he'd been sold from the get. But that likely also meant he'd spent a whole lot of their relationship just … trying to please her. In the bedroom – but more than that. Daily life. Family life. Work life. To keep her respect. For her to keep seeing the good in him. To see the value of having him around. That he was worth more than a one-time fuck. That he served a purpose other than getting her off.

And sometimes he felt fucked in the head wanting that kind of respect and purpose from her. Needing her to value him. Wanting her to want to be with him. Because she wanted to be. Not for all those other reasons it could be. Like his fear that right now she was really just working at coaxing him into whatever she had her head set on about 'dealing with this'. That that's what last night was. That talk. That after the fact. An ego stroke to manipulate things to the conclusion she was pushing for.

But he didn't want to think about that. He still wanted to live in the afterglow. The very real feeling – and sounds and looks painted across her being – of what they'd done and shared. Just how fucking beautiful she was in those moments and how fucking amazing it felt to hold on to her – to just be with her – in the moments after. Just the warm feeling of having that afterglow – in the form of Liv – completely draped against him right now. Just warm and comfortable.

So he was going to live for the moment in the happy (potentially false) reality that they were getting out of the rut in the bedroom they'd been in for months. That Liv wasn't turning things weird in that regard. That he seemed to be doing OK in that department too despite the shit this had stirred up in his head. And that she had actually enjoyed herself last night – that that hadn't been another little show for his sake too.

"This looks like more than a grocery run," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Me and Em hit the farmer's market."

"I thought it smelled like Wilklow's bacon," she said.

"Double smoked," he teased. "Just the way you like it."

She made an amused sound. "And yet … triple," she said.

"Unplanned," Brian smiled about the acknowledgement even if it amounted to a bit of a pet on the head for his performance the night before. He'd take it. He was operating under some nerves right now – always a little. Felt a bit more when loaded terms like 'making love' were attached to it. Like it upped the ante. But maybe they had upped the ante. He didn't know the what, how or why behind it. Maybe just being together and actually communicating a bit had been enough. He didn't know. He just knew that it felt like they'd both gotten a lot out of it. "Who complains about a hat trick?"

Liv made another quiet sound against him and her arms wrapped a bit more around him. He could feel the sway of her hips with the movement. She could be ridiculously sexy when she wanted to be.

"Are you guys being gross?" he heard Big Man demand off behind them. And he felt Liv smile a bit against his shoulder again before turning her head and straightening a bit away from him.

"So gross, Little Fox," she teased.

Brian caught the disgusted look Ben gave Liv. All crinkled nose and skewed up face.

They were likely being fairly gross by a 10-year-old's standards. Likely more than fairly gross because the thought had seriously crossed Brian's mind that if the kiddos weren't there, it would likely be worth going and attempting another hat trick that morning.

No go, though. Kids awake. And parenting mode definitely engaging in both of them.

"Come here," Liv said to their kiddo and wrapped her arms around him as Ben pressed into her body too. "I missed you. Did you have a good trip?"

"Yea," Ben murmured into his mom's rocking, tight hug. "We saw the Blackhawks play Detroit, Mom. That's a rivalry match!"

"So cool ….," she acknowledged. "That Daddy. He's pretty good." She gave him a little smile.

"Yea," Ben acknowledged. "We tried to go skating outside! But there's so much snow."

"More than here?"

"Way more and way colder," Ben added. "Like freezing."

"Brr …," Liv shook – and shook Ben along with her. But she cast Brian a look and felt at Ben's forehead. "He's warm," she mouthed his way.

Brian just nodded. He knew. Likely explained a lot about how quiet he'd been on the drive home the day before – no complaints that time. And even though he'd slept a lot of the drive, the kid had still slept through the night and late that morning.

"Show Mom your throat, Ben," Brian said.

The kid complied, gazing up at her and opening his mouth wide.

"Tonsils?" Liv mumbled and tilted their kid to stare into his mouth in a practiced maneuvre. So fucking practice that Bri had already pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed on the light for her. They'd become these people. These parents. And he wouldn't have believed like seven years ago that either of them had this in them – in quite this way – even if they'd both thought they wanted to raise kids. And yet here they were. And as frustrating, exhausting and completely unexpected this whole parenting thing was – how fucking different it was from the glorification he'd imagined it as – he wouldn't trade it.

"Might be more than that this time," he said.

And Liv only had to shine the light into Ben's throat before she made a noise that said she'd spotted the white spots with her untrained eye. It was followed by a sigh.

"Does it hurt, Benj?" she asked and tested his forehead more.

"Mhes," he murmured.

"I shot a note off to his coach. Sitting out of today's game," Brian provided.

Liv made a sound and pulled back from Ben a bit, disappearing back down the hallway, he knew to get the thermometer.

"Already checked," he called after her. "It's in their bathroom if you wanted to do it again. It was 101."

"I think we'll be visiting the doctor," she said as she diverted.

Ben came and slunk against him. "I don't wanna go to the doctor."

"You want to feel better?" Brian asked and stroked at his back a bit. Kid had been a suck since he'd been up. And only managed to nod his head against him this time. "Then we're going to get you checked out."

Liv was on her way back and Em had jumped out at her. "Look what Bubba got me all da way from Chi-dog-o," she said and held the narwhal out at Liv.

"Wow, Little Duck," she allowed. "That was pretty nice of your big Bubba."

Emmy squeezed it to make the eyebrows scrunch, eyes slant and teeth get snarled. "His name Bubber-Butt."

"What a good name," Olivia muttered and Brian gazed into the next room and watched Liv press the thermometer into their girlie's ear. He didn't think Emmy even noticed. She was so set on her new toy.

"Yea, it a real good name. 'Cuz whales have lots of bubber."

"Mmm," Liv acknowledged and started at the number on the thermometer and then came into the kitchen to repeat the process on Ben – Emmy trailing after her.

"She's seemed so far," Brian mouthed.

"Her temperature's OK," Liv acknowledged. "But if it's strep …" she just shook her head. Emmy would definitely get it too. It was a near given.

"Me and Daddy went to market, Mommy," Em provided, as Ben still stayed huddled against him while Liv manhandled his ear. "We got food so Daddy can cook now since he's home. So that's better."

"Oh, thank you, Emily. I'm very glad to know that will be better."

"Yea, much better," Emmy provided.

Liv just gave him a look at that moment and then showed him Benji's reading. It hadn't gone down any.

"Yea, we got pterodactyl wings for din-din," Em said. And she just kept going. And going.

Just like they had to too. Because that was how it worked.

**PLEASE REVIEW. IT'S APPRECIATED.**


	9. Hurtful Transformations

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia gazed down the couch at the mass of people – the pile of foxes and family and just their own little world of humanity – that they'd become on the couch. Two exhausted parents and two sick and tired little kids. One little boy who wasn't doing very well at hiding it and one little and not quite ready to admit she was lagging too. Both drugged and slightly stoned but finally calming after an unplanned hectic start to the day and too many hours sitting in a walk-in clinic – and developing more whiney children in the process. But they were home now. Together now. And it felt nice.

Emily was doing her best to make up for any lost Daddy time that week. She'd been attached to Brian like glue so far that day. But that was pretty standard. Their little duckling was definitely a Daddy's Girl as much as her Little Fox was a Mama's Boy. And Emmy was nearly as rough and tumble as Brian. Boys socks hiked up to her scrapped knees all summer long, topped off with tuffy little pigtails sticking out the top either side of her head. A hairstyle that he'd been decreed since her starting kindergarten that it was "DADDY WHO DOES MY HAIR RIGHT". So every morning it was Brian who fiddled around with Emmy Girl's unruly, tangles and the elastic bands to perfect the almost always lopsided look that Emily seemed A-OK with.

As much as Emily would put on a sundress, she was just as likely to decide to compliment it with a plastic ninja sword strapped to her back. The overalls that Brian's mom had dug out of some bag of beloved belongings from Brian's childhood were as much of a favorite with their little girl – right along with the patches that Janet had had to sew into the knees for Brian as a little boy and now thrived on plastering the legs with new decals picked out by the little girl. A complete mishmash of flowers and cars and dinosaurs and ladybugs overing the material. Emily was much more likely to want to sit staring at bugs in the grass and go charging without fear onto a football field to snag every flag she could reach – no matter who's team she was playing for. She wasn't a little girl who wanted to play tea party or do Mommy-daughter manicures that Olivia may have imagined when adding a baby girl to their family. If she wanted arts and crafts (that weren't slime related), she had more in common with Jack and Benji. Though, they wouldn't humor her on certain more girlie or feminine endeavors about 363 days a year. They might honor her requests without groaning at her on her birthday and Mother's Day.

But that was OK. It'd still worked out – it was working out. And sometimes Emmy still surprised her when the girlie-girl buried somewhere in there emerged occasionally. At least long enough to inform Benji that his feet stunk like boy feet or to tell him that farting on a pillow and shoving it in her face was super gross. Or to insist that unicorns were as real and as cool as transforming robots from another planet. And that fiery hot – heart-burn inducing – everything and anything wasn't a necessity with every meal or whenever they got any kind of take-out. She'd balanced their family out.

Or Brian had. She'd been thinking about that a lot lately too – as the fear grew that she might lose him. The man she'd known. Or the man who was Daddy to these two kids. That if he didn't do something stupid that he'd just close in on himself in a way that they lost him to the abyss.

Amanda had told her it wasn't her job to look after him. But Olivia thought she was wrong. That maybe she would've agreed before – it wasn't her job to look after a grown man, especially one that didn't want to be looked after. But she also thought the comment from Amanda just … depicted how inexperienced Amanda was in relationships too.

And Olivia had been there. She'd spent years and years there. And it'd damaged – and sabotaged – so many of her attempts at relationships. It gave her yet another excuse to let them fail. To break-out. To not try. To cover up some of her own fears and insecurities. To keep up walls. And to just give herself an excuse to be a bitch to … someone who might've cared about her. But really to herself.

It wasn't that it was her job to look after Brian – it was that it was their job to look after each other. And it wasn't that Brian didn't want to be taken care of – or that he didn't want to or wouldn't deal with his past and his trauma – it was that he was scared what that meant to him as a person and a spouse and a man and a father. A cop. She understood that. It was his own walls and his own insecurities.

But she knew Brian did the same as her – he focused so much of his energy on taking care of others. At work – the cases he had to investigate to make sure all the I's were dotted and T's were crossed and the investigating detectives had played by the rules so that these cases he took so personally went to trial with a ADA that could win. That the evidence and interviews and witness statements and documentation was all there. That the ADA just had to go and lay it out in court. He took it so personally now if a case that he'd worked on didn't stick – in a way that was even more elevated than the work they did in SVU in making sure there were charges that got pressed. Brian was in charge of making sure things really stuck – and if they didn't, he took it badly. Upset with himself, upset with the ADA, upset with the unit that had handled the case, upset with the judge and jury – and devastated for the victims and their families.

He took care of the people on his team – as a boss and supervisor now. He was protective. He went to bat for them – sometimes to his own peril. He'd been pulled off cases and put in a box more than once because he didn't play by the rules in quite the way anyone wanted. But that was Brian. It always had been. He did things his way.

He took care of them at home too. He took care of his family. He'd made repeated sacrifices for them – personally, professionally, financially. He committed time and energy and love and worry to their kids. He listened to their problems – and took even their five-year-old's opinion into consideration when making decisions. He let Olivia win fights that maybe he won't have backed down on in his previous life. But she'd done the same. Like this house and Brooklyn. It was a compromise and sacrifice in so many ways for both of them. It wasn't where she wanted to live but it was a space that she was happy to have her kids growing up in – and if they were going to be living in Brooklyn, it was a neighborhood that was meant for families with proximity to schools and transit and Brian's mother and Cragen when he wasn't down in Florida with Eileen or out on a fishing boat off Bimney. But it also was a brownstone duplex – the including the garden level so their kids had personal, private space to play – in a gentrifying neighborhood that maybe they really shouldn't have been able to afford. Brian had sold his cabin and property he'd worked so hard on – in overcoming another one of the worst moments in his life. And she'd had to cash out some of her mother's trust that she'd been so fundamentally opposed to touching for so long. A great compromise and a great sacrifice – for these two little human beings that they both were so invested in and just adored and loved so much.

But it wasn't just the big decisions and sacrifices like that that Brian did. Olivia had been reminded again that week with him gone just how much he actually did for their family. All these big and little things in their daily lives that added up so quickly for her and for the kids. How much of the load he actually did carry. Keeping house and raising children – it was a team effort. They were a team they were – even when they were out of sync as a couple, they were united in their household and their commitment to it.

And he really tried to take care of her too. In so many ways Brian wasn't what – or who – she'd ever envisioned herself settling down with. But that fantasy she'd created was likely too much of a glorified fantasy non-reflective of reality. Because she hadn't excelled at relationships and she'd never had an example growing up of what a healthy, mature, adult, long-standing relationship looked like. She'd barely had anything that could be classified as a family as an example for raising these kids and having this life partner and co-parent now.

But she knew this – Brian might not be Prince Charming, but he was kind to her and he was wonderfully caring. He did all kinds of little things to demonstrate his affection – like Saturday morning breakfast and going all the way to the farmer's market to get her the bacon she liked. It wasn't an isolated incidence. And it hadn't be lost on her that he'd done that that morning – after driving sixteen hours the day before and being gone all week and exhausted and up most of the night with her, however, nice and fun and needed that'd been. He'd done it – and it spoke volumes about him and where his head was at and how he was thinking and what he was trying to express to her without him saying a word. He was like that. His gestures – big and small – carried so much weight.

Brian may not be a grand romantic but he tried – and he did a lot of things to make her feel special and still attractive and wanted and sexy even in her middle age. And all the years with him, she was realizing it wasn't the grand romance or the fantastic love story that made a love story – that made a relationship – it was all these little repeated moments of showing up. Or trying to make life a little easier for you day-in and day-out. It was all those little things that said 'I love you' without saying it.

It was the constant work at maintaining what they had. And it was work. Work that sometimes they got too lax about – that maybe she'd been too lax about lately. Maybe they both had. But they'd gotten a reality check. A big one. They needed to do better. She needed to do better.

Olivia tried to take care of him too. Maybe not as hard as she should've. Maybe she'd let some of that 'he's a grown man' thought pattern kick in. And maybe she'd given herself the excuse that he was rough-around-the-edges Brian Cassidy and he didn't need her wearing kid gloves while handling him. That that wasn't even what he wanted.

But then she saw – felt – how much he lit up, how his body language changed – when she did tell him she loved him. When she did little things too to show him he was loved and needed and wanted. When she let herself respect his sexuality and needs too – let him feel attractive and like a man. Like she wanted him that way. And she did.

She could feel how scared he was that that would have changed – that it would change now. But she'd admit that even though there'd always been a few question marks in their sex life, she hadn't worried on them too much because there was too much good to make her dwell on the less-than-average oddities. Her and Brian fit together well in too many ways. Even when they didn't. They had too much of a foundation in too many areas of their life. They'd established something – them, this family – on mutual trust and respect. And a lot of good times even though they'd endured some of their worst moments together and outright showed them off to the other person. They'd hurt each other – but they'd gotten through it. And they were still there – still together.

It worked even as much as it didn't. They had their foundation. They had their shared history and shared experiences and reference points and mileposts – for as much as they were different people they had all these intersecting point in their lives where they just came together. Little moments of magic. That added up to bigger moments of happiness when you stepped back to look at the whole picture. When you recognized that contentment counted for a lot and then some.

So it meant even if on days like this, it was Brian Emmy preferred – Olivia was willing to share. Just like she'd managed to make herself share Benji – and just like Benji wa still so much hers. Especially when he was sick. He just wanted Mommy Fox. He'd been as flaked out and as sucky with her since they'd gotten home from the doctor's as Emmy was being with Brian.

It was so strange to look down the couch at her family. This little family they'd created together and was just so much theirs. Not that adoption was some sort of strange oddity in New York City that earned much of a second-glance or regular comments. But they rarely got any sort of comment or mistaken identity passed off their way.

Benji – somehow, some way – looked much like Brian. Especially now that she'd seen so many pictures of him as a little boy. The similarities were striking in some of their features. And Olivia was loath to admit there were personality traits in her son that reminded her of the man she'd picked to help her raise this little boy. The anxious energy, the stubborn anti-authority, the puppy dog excitement, the smart as he wanted to be in any given moment manipulation, and this quiet self-conscious wounded nature. Was it nature or nurture? Or just life experience? She didn't know. But she did know that no one ever so much as gave a second-glance or questioned whether Brian was Benji's biological father or not. And she also knew that Brian was just as likely to tell her that Benji's personality was all her – and her fault – with a sprinkling of Jack in there. Especially the stubbornness.

And as much as Benji looked like his adopted Daddy, Emily was some how hers. Brian always commented on her eyes. "They're your eyes, keeping me in check even when you're not here," he contended all the time. But their little girl's complexion too and the nose, Brian regularly stated too. Likely just to gouge her since he knew she wasn't exactly the biggest fan of her nose to face ratio. Only Emily's hair was several shades lighter, but Olivia didn't doubt with age and life and sunshine, it was likely to darken up over the years. Just like Brian's had and just like she knew Benji's strawberry locks eventually would too. Though, she still secretly hoped that they wouldn't become the dark auburn – almost brown – that Brian's had as he aged. And it was a funny thought process – because their genes weren't there. Yet they two of them – were so their kids in so many ways.

And how could you not care for that? How could you not want to fight for it? And take care of it? And love it? And be forgiving of mistakes and blunders? How could you not look past all the flaws and just … enjoy what you had. Even if it was a sickly Saturday after a busy week? Because this all just still felt pretty good. It still felt right.

It still felt so right that she hated knowing – wondering – if Brian was sitting there feeling uncomfortable and wrong. Though, she wasn't sure he did. Not because of … everything … though maybe cause of their seating positioning.

Their little girl was twisted in some sort of acrobatic move – flopped backward, hanging across Brian's lap to the point her head was slanted precariously off his knee and near staring at the movie upside down. Meanwhile, her legs and feet were near in Brian's face, flung upward, crunching her toes into the back cushion over and over. It didn't look particularly comfortable. But Olivia had learned that kids tend to treat couches like jungle gyms long ago and seem much more content staring at TV from odd angles too. If it meant they stared at it longer than if she told them to sit up properly – she didn't really care how they sat and watched.

Though, Brian had reason to care that afternoon. He'd flopped over her and Benji's way to get away from the restlessness of Emmy's movements and the potential that he might take a kick in the face.

His one hand was resting across Benji's ribs and chest – like he was still expecting this to be bronchitis and not strep and he was monitoring his every breath. His head was lulled back against the cushion – close enough that Olivia had her free hand up, running her fingers through Brian's hair. Her other hand was still intermittently checking at Benji's forehead, monitoring his temperature and the touch of clamminess there. But he seemed undisturbed by the maneuvre. He was transfixed on the movie.

They all were. In some sort of stupor they were just staring at it. The latest Michael Bay Transformer offering. The kind of movie that she'd usually get up from the couch and go clean the toilet instead of watching. But not that day. That day she was perfectly happy to lounge there with the three of them – and put out of her mind any question about if her five-year-old should really be watching this. Not that it really mattered – so many of the TV and movie rules she'd tried with Benji had faded. To a point. And she'd learned to trust Brian's judgement on if some of these Transformer and Ninja Turtle and Marvel super heroes (she'd been informed they weren't a DC family) were appropriate for their children or not. Just let she'd let him handle the fall out if something happened on the screen that made him decide to turn it off or if something was scary enough that Emmy ended up with nightmares (which rarely happened, though she almost always informed them a movie was too scary their first try through it. Olivia thought it was more Emmy got bored and just didn't want to admit it to her Daddy and Big Bubba so she used 'scary' as an excuse since she'd learned that meant it got turned off to try again another time).

"That's a sam-eer-i 'Former," Emmy muttered to seemingly no one.

"It's Drift," Benji provided anyway.

Emmy squirreled a bit in her position, righting herself and flopping herself against Brian's side. His arm that had been blocking her feet from impacting with his battered-enough face, finally came down and wrapped around her instead.

"I like 'im," she said.

"He's pretty cool," Brian agreed passively. "He used to be a Deception."

Emmy looked up at him wide-eyed. "He a bad guy?"

"Not in this," Brian provided. "He's a good guy here."

Emmy stared at the screen again. "He good at sam-eer-i stunts."

"Tactical combat," Benji croaked out again.

"I like 'im," Emmy reaffirmed. "He like a Ninja Turtle 'Former."

"Sorta," Brian agreed.

"Sorta wrong," Benji muttered and did his own squirrel manuever, cuddling into her more.

"You think he got oozed with slime to become a 'Former, Daddy? Like the Turtles?" Emmy asked and gazed at Blubberbutt, giving him a good squeeze to transform him to an angry narwhal in that moment.

"Dumb," Benji muttered against her side.

"Shh …," Olivia soothed and rubbed at his back.

"Tell her to shh," he sulked. She could tell he was hurting. "I can't hear the movie."

She just kept rubbing at Benji's back and Brian did the same with Emmy. But she gazed at him with big eyes.

"Daddy… you didn't say?"

"Yea, Duckie, I don't think oozing slime, experiments gone wrong made Drift. He's from Cyberton like all the other Deceptons and Autobots."

Emmy considered that. "But you think that maybe slime could make 'Formers since it 'formed the Turtles?"

"Yea, I don't know. Maybe," Brian allowed.

Emmy snuggled into him more at that. "Maybe we should make 'Former slime," she said. "Like robo slime for their sir-kits and gears. So they run good for battle."

"Sure," Brian muttered. "When you two are on the upswing we'll get right on teaching you both about personal lubricant."

Olivia made a little amused noise at that and caught eyes with him. He gave her a 'got your mind in the gutter, been with SVU too long' long. But she knew he'd purposely made the sideways joke for her benefit. It was another little thing he did. Even though it had bit him in the ass more than once when the kids had picked up one of his little comments and repeated them in public. Brian only cared so much when that happened, though.

Olivia's phone buzzed and she reached away from Benji to grab it and look at it while Brian gazed at her questioningly.

"It's Jack," she said and removed her hand from his hair to reply to their oldest. "He's heading over …"

"You tell him we're under quarantine?" Brian put to her.

"Mmm …," she allowed. She had. But sometimes Jack's listening skills – via text or otherwise – still left something to be desired.

"Tell him to bring popsicles," Benji croaked out again.

She held at him a bit. "I'm telling Peedg that we don't want him to get sick so he shouldn't come over."

"But my throat hurts so much," Benji whined so hard he sounded near tears.

"Mine too," Emmy copied.

Olivia let out a sigh and eyed Brian. And they just stared at each other a long beat but then he patted again at Benji's ribs and gave Emmy another little squeeze. Then he managed to extract himself from the pile of plagued humanity they were on that couch.

"OK," he allowed. "I'm going to do a popscile run." He gazed at her again. "And … wonton soup?"

She gave him a thin smile and a little nod. "Thank you," she mouthed.

He only nodded back, as Emily shifted on the couch again and this time flopped right onto her free side – putting her under a bigger pile of her sick, needy children. But it still felt good. She still held at them.

And despite the germs and the fevers and the shear amount of antibiotics and NSAIDs in their systems, Brian stepped over and bent down, planting a brief kiss on each of their three foreheads.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said. And he padded off toward the door. Off on the latest mundane mission of their lives. But the life they'd made together. That she knew he valued.

This situation that worked. When they forced themselves to remember the fundamentals that worked for them: be kind to each other, listen hard and fight fair. They'd just have to get back to those fundamentals.

They were. She could feel it. All together now.


	10. From the Stands

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Jack came up behind Brian and tapped the hot coffee cup against the front of his shoulder. The guy had been so set in his hunched position in the bleachers that he mustn't have registered that he'd come up behind him. Had jumped so much that the cup knocked so much.

"Shit," Brian muttered, as a bit of the hot liquid managed to get over the rim and hit the shoulder of his coat.

"Sorry," Jack muttered, and pulled the cup back a bit, as Brian brushed away the liquid.

At least it looked like he wasn't in his work get-up anymore. Wouldn't be. He'd likely already been home to pick up the kiddies from their after-school care stuff. Changed and was in the shit multi-layered coats that looked like he'd had for the majority of his lifetime - not that new leather jacket that Mom had got him around Christmas a couple years back. Good thing. Brian likely would've looked more pissed than he did. Hardly looked pissed at all, actually. He just kind of looked distracted and tired.

"It's OK," Brian said and took the pro-offered cup from him, giving it a sniff.

"It's that fancy High Line piss that you claim you hate but sure seem to like whenever anyone else's paying for it," Jack provided and sat down next to him.

It got a thin smile out of the guy. "Thanks, Kid," he allowed.

Jack just nodded. "Figured you could use it. You and Olivia both look wrecked lately."

"Yea, middle age, work and two kids does that," Brian mumbled over the edge of the cup.

Jack stared at him for a beat. But the guy didn't add anything else. Maybe it didn't really need further explanation. It wasn't like there was any kind of tone to it. Brian said it like it was just a statement of fact. And it was also likely plain fact. Though, Jack had definitely noticed that both of them looked like they'd been put through the ringer lately.

Jamin and Em had said some passing shit that hinted that not all was swell in Casa Bensidy either. Not that Jack had really witnessed any of these supposed 'whisper fights' when he'd been over. Extended silences and noticeable tension in the room? Yeah, he'd spent more than a few Sunday dinners sitting through that. But he'd just focused his visits in that environment basically on the kids. And anytime he got a chance to broach it with Mom she just brushed it off as her and Brian being really tired.

Apparently Brian wasn't going to give him anything more than that bagged response either. So Jack just sat there staring out at the basketball court too.

"There … and there," Brian pointed after taking a long swig of the brew.

Jack made a sound of acknowledgement. It was usually easy enough to spot either of the kids. Jamin you just had to look for the red. Emmy it was the bouncing ponytails skewed in all directions off the top of her head. But sometimes both of them were such tornados you really had to keep your eyes peeled to pick them out in a group you weren't observing from the get.

"They look a lot better than the weekend," Jack said.

"Miracle of antibiotics," Brian said.

"On bacteria that's not yet resistant," Jack provided.

It got a noise and a glance from Brian.

"The doc say anything about Jamin?" Jack knew it wasn't the first time that winter his nephew had been on antibiotics. It probably wouldn't be the last either.

Brian scrubbed at his face – again betraying he was beyond tired. He looked it. "Made some noise about his tonsils again."

"You guys gonna let them rip them out?" Jack asked.

Brian made another little sound and stared down at the court. "We're still waiting on getting the respirlogist's take on what's going on before letting them go at our kid with scalpels."

Jack allowed a slow nod, staring at the court too. He appreciated that. He knew Jamin had already had enough surgeries and doctors for a kid. Had left him fucked in the head enough about doctors and hospitals. But he still wished the doctors would give them a better answer about why Jamin had so many respiratory infections and seemingly endless strep throat. It was like the kid had no immune system and pretty much anything caused some sort of gland swelling in his throat and wheezing crackle in his lungs.

Seemed like they were all waiting for the sorta simple answer of asthma or allergies but that answer just didn't seem to be coming. At least the doctors had pissed of Mom and Brian enough they'd argued for a second opinion and referral and were putting off surgery that might not be necessary or even helpful. But still. It sucked that Jamin seemed to come down with this shit so much and some of the coughs and sore throat stuff just didn't seem pleasant. Seemed worse when it was going through their family and hit up Emmy too. Though, she seemed to have a better immune system than Jamin, which made Jack think that some of it had to do with whatever the fuck Izzy had gotten into while she was pregnant with him. And all the shit in that unheated and rancid freezer they'd lived in after Dad was gone.

And but still still – Jack could appreciate their stance and Brian's matter-of-fact statement of it even if the sentence included the 'our kid' as part of it. But he recognized that Jamin was Olivia and Brian's kid now.

That'd been a fucking hard road to settle in on. But a whole lot of talk therapy and family counselling and his own head-shrinker had gotten him to accept that it wasn't just Olivia giving Jamin a better life – it was Brian too. So much better than what Jack could've provided his little nephew. He knew that. And by them taking on all that – they were giving him a chance to have a better life - his own life - too. SO there was that. Such as it was.

But it was still hard sometimes to see Brian as Jamin's 'dad', though. Even though it was also pretty much the undisputed reality. Even Jack was pretty grossly aware of how much of a dad Brian was to Jamin and Em. And just how much they loved him that way. That that's just who and what he was. Without question. He was all they knew in that regard.

And it wasn't like Brian was a shitty dad by any means. He wasn't – as much as Jack maybe at the start had sorta hoped or wanted him to be. But he wasn't. He was so there in so many ways. Not just for Jamin and Em. For Liv. For him too.

So Jack almost knew too that there was some level of jealousy going on in him. That Jamin and Emmy were getting to grow up in a fairly nuclear family. Like it wasn't like they were entirely normal Norman Rockwell-esque. But they had a mom and a dad who lived together and cared about them. Sure wasn't something Jack had had. Knew Olivia and Brian hadn't had it either, though. And that was likely part of the reason they seemed pretty committed to it. To basically not sucking as parents. Not as a mom. And not as a dad.

They were giving those kids a good life. And that was something else that Jack had to learn to accept – that Mom got to have a life in that too. That she deserved to be happy and he shouldn't be doing shit or thinking shit or projecting shit that made that whole concept and situation harder for her.

He'd signed over Jamin to her and she'd given up a lot to take on all that. And then she'd bent over backwards to make sure he had a permanent and meaningful place in the family too. She'd fucking made herself a family – all of them a family – piecing it together bit by bit and really fucking fighting for it like every inch of the way. It definitely hadn't been easy. It'd been a fucking mess. So why make a good thing now – a mess? Why get his shorts in a knot? It just didn't make sense.

So Jack really couldn't pass too much judgement. Even though it sometimes sorta made him feel like he was out of the loop or some kind of third wheel. Fifth wheel?

Other times he really appreciated not having to be the 'everything' to Jamin. Not having to be like uncle and brother and father-figure and just parent. He probably would've sucked at all that. He had kinda sucked at it when he tried way back. But he was still just a kid then too. Not now. But now he just got to be some sort of cool way big brother-uncle hybrid. And it mostly worked. It mostly felt normal.

And when it didn't – he just tried to focus more on how normal all this was for Jamin. That he was happy. He tried to think about how much he loved and needed his dad when he was Jamin's age. How his dad was pretty much still a super hero then. The center of his fucking universe. His best friend.

So Jack just told himself over and over again he didn't want to fuck up Jamin having some of that too. Besides, Brian was mostly cool to him too. Didn't keep him on the sidelines too much. Wasn't like Brian and Mom made him feel second-fiddle. That was his own issue. So needed to just cope with it. Be the grown-up.

Fuck adulting sucked.

"Emmy agreed to this?" Jack muttered while he stared down at the kids more goofing around than running any kind of drills down there. Unless it was soccer – or Capture the Flag (sometimes disguised at flag football), Emily wasn't that down with the whole sport thing. Jack could relate.

Brian shrugged. "Her level of participation depends on the day of the week."

"And the venue," Jack provided.

Emmy definitely wasn't quite into organized activities in the same way as Jamin. But this was just drop-in – and it was basketball which the kids at least loved on the playground, and it was at the glorified playground that was the Chelsea Piers fitness complex.

So the comment got another small amused sound out of the guy. Brian knew that reality too, and he scrubbed at his face a bit more. "They're likely gonna want to go over to the Rock N Roll Gymboree for a bit when this wraps."

Jack shrugged. "Sure," he conceded.

He figured. He'd like it better if he could go into the Ninja Gladiator obstactle course designed for little kids. The indoor playground and foam pit and climbing wall was fucking ridiculous. Just fantastic. But he'd long ago stopped being allowed to go in since Em had more than managed to navigate the course on her own at about a hundred mile per hour. Long gone where the days of having to climb up or crawl into somewhere to retrieve her and bring her back down to the safety of flat ground and calm her screaming. Instead he was stuck on the sidelines with the rest of the adults – one of the ones streaming for the kids to get over to him and them screaming back, 'Five more minutes'. Which always meant more like thirty. Or an hour.

He knew that would likely be the way it went that night too. But he just didn't really care. Just hanging out at the Piers with them would likely be easiest anyway. Way better than trucking them back to his place and letting them destroy it for a couple hours.

"Mom around?" he asked, giving the rest of the stands some more of a cursory glance. See if she'd found some other parental type she wanted to try to be social with and had gone off to chit-chat. Olivia did that more than Brian. Brian almost never talked with other parental units at these things as far as Jack could tell. He just eagle-eyed Ben and Em.

Bri glanced at his watch. "She's still wrapping some shit at the precinct. I'll head that way, meet her, in a bit."

Jack gave a slow nod and pulled the third coffee from the tray and handed to him. Browner points for Brian instead of his own on that delivery. Too bad – always a good plan to stay on Mom's good side. Though, knew Brian would likely convey he'd been the buyer this time around.

"Been a while since you guys asked me to babysit on a school night," he commented.

Actually more than a while.

There'd been some nights where one of them called him if they were jammed up at work. There'd been some nights where he'd just been over chilling at their place anyway and they'd decided to adopt it as free babysitting service to go out for a drink or bite. Been some after-school pick-ups or weekend afternoon outings that he'd taken on the kiddies that he was pretty sure Mom and Brian turned into some kind of afternoon delight (which he also suspected for at least the past … many years .. often amounted to just doing a whole lot of nothing in a house that was quiet for a couple hours).

But for them to actually schedule a time for him watch the kids so they could do something all couple-y and date-like? Jack couldn't even pinpoint the last time he'd gotten that request. Not that he got the impression that this was exactly anything that amounted to couple-y or date-like either. Mom had been way too vague when she'd asked him for this solid.

The comment got a glance from Brian. "Yea, well, we've got something to take care of."

"Not your usual dinner reservation slot," Jack provided.

"I really don't need you busting my balls on this, Jack," he said. There was that look and tone of warning to it.

Jack didn't want to press it – as much as he did. Because it just felt like there'd been a whole lot of reading between the lines about the state of Casa Bensidy. But he'd been doing some reading. He might not be living in it like Jamin and Emily – but he sure as fuck had eyes and ears when he was around. He wasn't dumb either.

Still, he left it. For now. "Got mentioned Mom had some sort of schoolyard brawl with another mom there."

Brian made a slightly amused noise at that but still just swigged at his coffee.

"Getting called into the principal's office?" Jack tried. A tease and a prod.

"Not tonight," Brian muttered. "Won't be far. We're fine coming by to grab them after we wrap."

Jack exhaled slowly with his nod and looked down at the kids. "Just shoot me a text when you finish your 'thing'. If you're really only going to be a couple hours, might still be here. Or close. Go grab a slice or something."

Brian made a sound of acknowledgement. "Won't be long. School-night," he affirmed.

But Jack already knew that. That's why it made it so much fucking weirder they had called him on night-before notice with this request. It wasn't like Olivia was letting on that they'd snagged some sort of early bird dinner Groupon that needed to be used immediately or killer theater tickets or ordered to some Commissioner's Ball or something. So it just made him read between the lines and speculate even more. Because school nights? Mom and Bri were fucking religious about dinner, homework and bedtime scheduling. This did not fit into the usual schedule.

Still Jack shrugged. "Plans change, text. I can get them home, to bed, for you. It's fine. I've got nothing tonight."

It got another sound out of him but nothing more. Jack stared at him – side-eyed – for a beat.

"So what seriously happened at the dismissal gates? Because the way Ben and Em tell it – it was pretty much Wrestle Mania."

Some more amusement and Brian scrubbing at his face again.

It looked like he wasn't shaving much lately. Or had decided he was trying out some sort of … Hipster hobo look? Should've said that out loud. Brian would love that commentary.

"Ask Liv. Get it from the horse's mouth," he suggested.

Jack sighed. "Yeah. We've kinda been missing each other lately."

"Mmm," Brian grunted and looked directly at him. Right in the eye "Thinking that's purposeful."

Jack pulled his eyes away from that direct contact.

Sometimes it fucking pissed him off that he was able to pull more over on Mom than Brian. He didn't know if Olivia just gave him the benefit of the doubt or there was some 'love is blind' going on. But Brian called him way more quickly on his bullshit than Mom ever did. Not that she didn't call him out. She just let it drag on for a bit longer before she told him 'enough'.

Brian took another sip of his coffee. "You're getting her all worried about what's going on you. She doesn't need the extra stress right now."

"What's the other stress?" Jack asked.

Brian just drank his coffee and stared at the sort-of scrimmage going on with the school-aged kids on the court. Emmy was uncontrollably bouncing the ball and even more uncontrollably waving madly at them. They both offered up a couple smiles and waved. Brian did a great big sweeping one.

"Something at their school?" Jack tried when Brian's arm settled back down.

It got a slow exhale and he flicked at the plastic lid on the cup. "There's just a lot of layers to the bullying situation that Ben's fallen into. The school ain't being too responsive." He took another long drink. "We've got a meeting with the principal coming up. Try that route to get it sorted."

"That what the Mom Fight was about?"

Brian shook his head and stared down at the court again. Jack could tell he was staring at Jamin that time.

Jamin had some real talent at basketball. But he was weirdly talented at basically every sport he did – and Mom and Brian pretty much gave him the chance to try every sport imaginable. Way more than Jack had any opportunity to try growing up. Way more than he'd ever been interested in either.

But Jamin was definitely interested. Jack had put all his anger and agitation and anxiety and need for distraction and perfection and control and just fucking muscle memory into skating. Jamin? He ran. And ice skated. And tossed balls around and his pucks. And generally impacted with kids on football fields and hockey rinks.

It wasn't like he didn't skate anymore. Jack still took him out and took Emmy out too. It just was more like it was an occasional fun weekend activity in the summer months with their cool uncle than like … something either of them was passionate about.

Hockey. Basketball. Jamin seemed pretty invested in that stuff. Though, Jack also knew that it was partially because Brian was. Jamin's dad was. And Jack knew – tried to accept – that Jamin wanted to be just like dad. He remembered going through that phase too. Knew that sometimes even now he still did. Just hoped Dad would be proud of choices he'd made. For himself and for Benjamin. That he'd done the right thing. Something his Pops could support. He really hoped. A lot.

"One of the layers of it," Brian muttered.

"What's that even mean?" Jack grumbled right back.

Brian scrubbed at the sides of his head where his hair had kinda suddenly been shaved into a new hairstyle that Jack didn't get the sense he'd gone to the barber for. But the sarcastic comment he'd made about it a week or two ago had just been meet with just as sarcastic response from Brian. Some tit-for-tat when there really was some … weirdness going on with the guy. Most people don't just go shaving down their hair without reason.

"There's a little girl who's not so little," Brian nodded at him. "Her mom's a bit of a small-time someone in the whole activist front thing who wants to be a lot more than what she is."

"OK …?" Jack scrunched his brow at that explanation.

"She's involved with Black Lives Matter. Or thinks she is. A bit of a wannabe."

"OK," Jack allowed again and started to weigh where this might be going at a primary school level? Already sounded like no where good.

"So whatever is getting rightly or wrongly spouted on the home-front, this kid's major take-away seems to be cops are evil."

"Fantastic …," Jack muttered. He was starting to get the sense where this might be going. "I think the actual point is kinda being skewed there."

"No kidding. And She's decided to take it upon herself to turn Big Man into some sort of target because of what me and your Ma do for a living."

"So what's that even mean?" Jack pressed at him again – harder this time.

"Meant that Liv and this woman had a bit of a disagreement for one," Brian said and scrubbed at her face.

"Got to give the mom some credit," Jack allowed, "takes guts to take on Mom."

Brian shook his head. "Yea, well, this woman is pretty much a professional button pusher. And rather than having an adult conversation about the bullying situation, she went trying to turn it into something else. went pushing buttons. You kids and the more than twenty years your Ma has invested into working for this city and its citizens..."

Jack groaned a little and gave his head a little shake, staring down at the kids. He knew those weren't areas you got into too far with Mom. Not if you wanted to still be intact the next morning.

"Don't think I'd want to see that Death Match," he muttered.

"Oh, but you can," Brian muttered and Jack caught his eyes. "Punch it into YouTube."

Jack rolled his eyes. "You're fucking with me?"

"I wish," Brian said and swigged at the coffee again. "Good news is that there's not much to see. Because Liv's a professional But what there is does make this other woman look …" he shook his head. "Fucking PR and optics nightmare for al" sides here. But Least it shows off that maybe at least some cops know how to deescalate a situation and keep their heads."

"I likely wouldn't have," Jack muttered, scuffing his foot across the bleachers.

He got the whole good cop, bad cop, dirty cop thing. He'd had his own run-ins with police that he knew could've gone way sideways if didn't call out that he was the kid of a cop. And he was a fucking white, college kid in Manhattan. On the surface he screamed privilege to people who didn't know him. He knew it. But he also knew he was still getting himself around a lot of stuff that came with not living in small town, rural America anymore.

He did know, though, that his mom and Brian had been through a hell of a fucking lot on the job. It'd fucked with them mentally, emotionally and physically. And they still put on the badge and the gun every day. They weren't one of the cops who were the problem. And it pissed him off that people like them were still … considered part of the problem. But there was the whole problem. Stereotypes and assumptions and just a historic, sociological, perpetuating mess.

Change was needed. He knew that. And so did Ma and Brian. They'd busted their asses their whole lives trying to create some change. Mom was definitely a proud bleeding heart liberal. she supported stuff like this. BLM. Me Too. Time's Up. She advocated for all kinds of people. From all kinds of backgrounds. With all kinds of history. And she was teaching that all to Ben and Emmy. Jack knew it. She challenged his own small town, small minded shit too. Truth bombed him in a way textbooks and media stats didn't. she made sure all of them had some kind of age-appropriate grip on all kinds of things"

So whatever was going on with this mom and her kid - right, wrong, confused or slanted messaging - it still definitely didn't seem like something that a fucking ten-year-old kid – whatever his skin color or whatever his parents did for a living – should be getting bullied about. He would've lost his head just because of the whole … confusion around the situation. The messaging and the trickle down affect and just how you education and fix any of this. He didn't know.

He wished he did. but maybe that was the point too. he was able to acknowledge he really didn't. He was able to listen and learn. And that's what Mom and Bri were about too. That's what they taught them.

"Yea, well, better her than me – because she's come at me before and I was already getting close to losing it on her," Brian muttered into his coffee. "And I'm way too white and host to the completely wrong genitalia to be getting into it with her. Would've turned into a bigger scene than it was."

Jack just looked at him. Tried to process that. "So is the kid leaving Jamin alone now at least?"

Brian sighed hard at that and pressed his fingers across his brow. "Kid, there's just a whole lot of layers going on to what's happening to Big Man right now. They're coming at him from a bunch of different angles in a bunch of different ways."

"Like what?" Jack demanded.

Brian exhaled again and slumped his elbows onto his eyes to gaze over at him. "Ben's Ben, Jack," Brian pressed at him firmly. "He struggles socially. Still. He can be spazzy. You know that. We've got this dyslexia thing going on. He's struggling academically and he knows it. It frustrates him. And it embarrasses the shit out of him. Especially with our little Mensa girl down there. And he knows you aren't exactly stupid either, Kid. He feels fucking stupid. And he's got the kids at school are more than aware he's a little weird. They see differences. They know he's a cop kid and this ring leader is turning that into a fucking Scarlet Letter. Somehow word's out that him and Duckie are adopted and apparently that's a fucking thing too – because kids at this age can just be fucking mean. That's where we're at."

Jack tried to hear all that. He tried to process it – and just the fucking wave of sadness that impacted with him in hearing the way Brian spat that out.

"Ben hasn't said anything to me …," he said.

Brian stared down at Jamin again. "Well, he's not exactly talking openly about it to me and Liv either. Part of the reason we're having such a fucking hell of a time trying to get a handle on this for him."

"I …," Jack shook his head. He wanted to say … 'thank you'. Because he didn't know if or how he could handle this situation if he was still full-time in-charge of Benji. He'd likely fuck it all up – even if he tried.

He felt Brian's hand squeeze into his shoulder and he gave it a glance. "It's OK," Brian nodded at him. "He's OK. We're OK."

Jack gave a weak nod and stared down at his nephew again. "Should I be spending more time with him? I know lately … just finishing out my studio project …"

"It's fine, Kid," Brian said. "No one feels like you're absent, OK?"

Jack took the turn to scrub at his face a bit – his own fatigue and sorrow. "You see that Eventbrite I sent you guys?" he asked instead. "The comic making class at the Super Hero Supply Corp. I was going to take them on Saturday, if … you know … they want to go, you and Mom want a couple hours …"

Brian gave another nod and his shoulder another squeeze and a little fist bump as he let it go. "Sounds good to me," he allowed. "I'll run it by Liv. And the kiddos."

Jack gave him another look. "Last time I talked to Mom she mentioned that Em's party is getting canned? That have anything to do with all this?"

Brian made a noise and shrugged. "Maybe was kinda the nail in the coffin. But I've been wanting us to re-think the whole class party thing for a while. Just not feeling too in-love with the school community right now. Or like anyone wants us to be part of it. Or are treating our kids like full, rightful, included members of it. You know?"

"Yea …," Jack acknowledged. "So she said … just going to do a family day or something the weekend before?"

Brian acknowledged. "Yea. But we'll do dinner and cake with family. You, my Ma. Likely ome of Liv's tribe over there. So if you don't want to tag along – no biggie."

"What are you doing?" Jack asked.

Brian shrugged. "We haven't nailed it down yet. We were talking the aquarium or maybe whatever that Nat Geo thing is they've got going over here," he said gesturing absently off in what would be the general direction of Times Square. Vaguely.

"That will cost a giant small fortune," Jack muttered.

"Yea, well, still much prefer to spend the money, time and energy on a day hanging with my fam-damily than a room full of unappreciative ass-hats, douche bags and bullies."

Jack nodded. "I might come if it's just an afternoon thing. I got the impression from what Mom had said that you were thinking of getting away for a few days or something."

Brian ran his fingers down the side of his face again. "Yea, maybe," he conceded. "Think we're all running a little on empty. We were just spit-balling, though. We'll let you know when we start to firm things up."

He let his head bob but stared at his feet, clasping his hands until he looked over at Bri. "You seriously not going to tell me what you and Mom are going to tonight?"

Brian grabbed his eyes. "You seriously not going to tell me what's with the avoidance game you're doing with your Ma?"

Jack exhaled and kept his eyes. "I'm seeing someone," he said flatly. "But I think you already had that figured out."

Brian stared at him. A long beat. "How's that going?"

Jack exhaled again and shook his head as he went back to gazing at his feet. There were so many ways to answer that question. So much he wanted to say about it. There was so much stuff he wanted to talk about it about it. But then also he didn't. Hence – avoidance.

"I'm not sure," Jack allowed.

"Mmm …," Brian hummed at him.

Jack squeezed a bit at the bridge of his nose and looked at him again then. "I'm not really ready to get into Mom's twenty – THOUSAND – questions about it, her. Or to hear her thoughts and opinions on it."

Because he knew when Mom did find out about this relationship – about her – she was going to have all kinds of thoughts and opinions. And it always just came off as commentary on him and his life and his past and his inability to function as a human being or adult. And Jack just didn't want to deal with that right now.

He couldn't. Not when he was still figuring out if this was anything or would be anything or how into it – her – he was. If it could even work? When you're with someone nearly – maybe more – fucked up than you. Who maybe reminds you too much of your Mom and you can't decide if that's a good thing, bad thing or completely fucked up thing? Not when he really liked this girl – woman – in a way he didn't entirely understand. In a way that made him completely uncomfortable when in other ways it just felt so fucking comfortable.

And then there was the whole … just other levels to it. Aspects and considerations. He just didn't fucking know. And he didn't want Olivia's mom anxieties and protectiveness pressing into the way he sorted this out. He was a fucking adult man. Or at least he tried to be. He was trying to figure out how to be that. Or at least how to be a functioning human being.

"I hear ya …," Brian acknowledged and just went back to staring at Jamin and Emmy again. It looked like the rec co-ordinator they had down there was starting to work at wrangling the kids to get this thing wrapped up.

"Your turn," Jack said.

Brian just stayed fixed on the court. Though, he stood – likely partially to escape his question and to just end the conversation right there. But maybe also so the kids could see where he was in the stands.

Not that there were a ton of parents loitering there that session. Most would've gone and done their own workout or grabbed a coffee and fiddled on their phones during this thing. They'd be waiting outside the doors when the kids went flying out. But not Brian. Never Brian. He was always in the stands. Even Jack knew that – and Brian wasn't even his dad.

"The family therapist," Jack said flatly to his back. "About dealing with Jamin?"

Brian gave him a little glance. "Not exactly."

Jack processed that and caught his eyes quick before he turned away again. "Bri … you and Mom? You're doing alright, right?"

Brian lifted his arm high again. And Jack watched Emmy and Jamin start sprinting their way. But then he got another glance.

"Liv and me – we've got a lot of mutual respect. A bit of a rough patch – but we're working on it."

"Jamin …?" Jack asked softly – almost scared of the answer. If Benji was too much even for them? if it was his nephew that was hurting thier relationship and causing all the stress and conflict that was sitting in this quiet tension in that house? what that would mean? How Olivia would chose? Or feel about any of it? what any of them would do if something happened to thier family?

But Brian only shook his head. "Just life, Jack. That's all. But Liv – she's the love of my life. And the kiddos? They're my whole life. Love the m to the moon and back, same as your mom. So – it's gonna work out. You don't need to worry about it."

And he nodded. He didn't have much choice – because Brian was already taking a few steps down the bleachers to give the kids half-armed hugs and good-byes. But Jack knew he was going to worry about it. He already was.


	11. Things

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia gripped at Brian's shoulder, laying against his chest in the dark. She listened to his heart beat. She felt his breathing. A position she'd been taking more and more lately. One that she'd enjoyed early in their relationship – early in them sharing a bed and a home night after night. But she'd become so aware that over the past many, many months – the better part of a year or more – she hadn't ended her day this way. Holding him.

It didn't matter if it was about him comforting her or her comforting him. Or them just sharing space together. It hadn't happened. And she'd realized that a queen-sized mattress could be really rather big. That foot or two of space between you – the back-turned sleeping positions opted for instead – could really tell you a lot about your relationship. Maybe it should've been another early sign of a problem. That they were slipping.

Not that she felt like either of them was near falling asleep right then. Even though they'd both opted to retire at the same time. They'd both been laying their in the silence and the dark for … she'd have to look at her phone and she didn't want to do that, but she suspected it was nearing an hour. Maybe more.

"I think I might get up and make a tea," she whispered to him, even though she could feel in his vitals he also hadn't drifted off. His fingers still making those restless swirls against her shoulder betrayed it too. "Do you want one?"

"Hot drinks this time of night have me up pissing all hours," he muttered absently.

"I know …," she allowed. "I just can't sleep. Can you?"

"Mmm …," he hummed at her and she felt his lips against her hairline. "Just close your eyes. Everything's fine."

She sighed. But listened. And let her eyes shut. She focused again on his heart and his breathing and the warmth of his chest and the movement of his fingers. But she didn't think it was going to work.

Her mind was still processing all that had been said that evening – even though she knew she needed to put it in the box and just let it sit for a while. But she couldn't.

Brian had been so nervous waiting to go into the family counsellors office. She had seen him in a lot of stressful situations before – she knew he had a tendency to always be moving – but nothing like this. His knee had been bouncing. He'd been twisting so restless at his half thumb that she'd been afraid he was going to end up breaking what was left of it off. She'd eventually reached and just held onto his hand – pressing their clasped grip on top of his knee until he managed to steady it.

Olivia knew she'd coerced him into this appointment a bit. That she'd framed it around Benji – and Emily. And she knew even when she did it – that she was manipulating him. Because as resistant as he might be to talk to about himself – or for them to get outside help in working on their relationship – Olivia knew that he'd do nearly anything and then some for their kids. To protect their kids and to take care of them.

The fidgeting started again when they went in, though. But, Brian – ever the professional as rough around the edges he was – evened out after the questions started. Something to focus and direct him – even though he was used to being the one asking the questions.

"I see you've both been in therapy before?" the therapist they'd been assigned for this in-take (that Olivia suspected might end up being their one and only take at this counselling office) stated while she flipped through the separate forms that her and Brian had both made to fill out. Olivia could see that the woman was staring more at her neat writing than Brian's sloppy mess. But she'd also provided longer answers.

"Just through work," Brian muttered. "Mandatory."

The woman nodded and made a small note. "You're both with the NYPD?"

"Yea," Brian grunted. "Well, were." That thumb jutted her way. "She still is. I'm with an Investigator with the DA's office now."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "I've had some work-ordered counselling," she acknowledged. "But I've done some individual therapy and family counselling previously – while going through the process of adopting my son. He's – Benji – had some counselling as well."

Another short note got jotted and then she actually looked more at them. "And I see some concerns about him is part of the reason you're here. Why don't you tell me a bit about that? Why you're here today?"

Brian's eyes just set on Olivia then and she felt like she was the one who was starting to fidget as she tried to find the right words to explain exactly what was going on in their family – what she was worried about. She'd run over talking points in her head all day but right then it felt like they weren't the right words to express it and they just weren't coming out. It must've shown because then it'd also been Brian who reached across and found her hand on her knee – sitting next to her on that couch – and gripped it.

"There's some layers to it," he provided for them.

A nod. "I see that," she said with another glance at the paperwork. "Okay. So you've been together how long?"

"Depends on how you're counting," Brian said flatly.

It got a little smile from Olivia but there definitely wasn't one from the counsellor.

"About seven years," Olivia said and got a little look from Brian, like maybe she was surprised she'd picked that point. When he'd come back into her life – and then attached himself so quickly and readily and committedly to her and Benji. Because he'd wanted it – and worked for it – from the get. Even though she hadn't. But she'd still let him into her life – their life. He'd still been a part of it. They'd been together even when they weren't entirely.

"We've known each other for twenty," Brian said.

She let her hand feel his. "More than that," she corrected. It'd be pushing twenty-one. Even if there was a gap in there. She looked more directly at the therapist and her note taking. "We've been friends – partners – a long-time. And now we're also raising two—"

"Pretty spectactular kids," Brian interjected and kept his eyes on the woman they'd been assigned to. "No matter how you're reading those words we wrote down there."

It got a glance from the therapist. But Olivia just squeezed at his hand. Held it. Felt it.

"We've got some challenges with both of them," she managed to press out. And she felt Brian squeeze her fingers a bit tighter. She rubbed at her eyebrow again with her free hand. "They're both adopted. Benji's been in my custody since he was about four. And Brian and I fostered Emmy – Emily – since she was about nine months. And then got custody of her—the adoption went through …"

"Closer to her second birthday," Brian provided.

"And how old are they now?" the note-taker asked, checking the paperwork that already had that spelled out.

"Ben's ten. Em's five," Brian said.

"She'll be six next month," Olivia clarified. "At the end of March."

And another nod and another jotted note.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow again and caught Brian's eye, trying to figure out the next direction she wanted to take. He took it for her.

"So they both had some rough starts before we got them," he provided, drilling his eyes into the therapist. "Different ways. But we can still see the effects. Still having things come up."

Olivia nodded at that. "There's some abandonment issues in both of them. Anxiety, agitation."

"Social anxiety," Brian clarified. "With Ben more than Em."

Olivia nodded again. "There's just some … development delays in Benji. Mostly socially. But we've seen some with … communication and literacy. Cognitive …" she swept her arm in a long gesture. "Since he had a longer start before we had him in our family … there were some … nutritional and hygiene deficiencies."

"That's being polite," Brian muttered and looked directly at the therapist again. "His mother was a junkie and he lived in what amounted to an unheated pig sty for the better part of three years. And most pigs waiting for slaughter would've been eating a hell of a lot better than him."

Olivia squeezed his hand again. Trying to calm him. Anything – everything – about what Benji and Jack went through still got him worked up. Mention of Benji's biological mother or the boy's uncle in any capacity sent him over the edge. Olivia sometimes – especially now, knowing what she did – was amazed that they hadn't come away from that farm with Brian in handcuffs. That he hadn't assaulted – roughed that man up – more than just getting in his face. That he hadn't taken him near death in the process.

"Benji's small for his age," she said, though. "And he seems to get sick a lot."

"He's getting picked on a lot at school," Brian provided. "We're dealing with some bullying situations that seem to be escalating a whole lot lately."

"Okay," the therapist acknowledged – and took another note.

"And, it's been complicated this year by the fact that we finally managed to get him assessed – and he is dyslexic. So now we know why he's been struggling academically – but we're also trying to play catch up with him and the school system."

"And trying to figure out the IEP thing and the 504 thing and what the hell makes the most sense for him," Brian pressed in hard. "And then the whole fucking process around that." She squeezed his hand harder – and he realized why. "Sorry …" he muttered.

The therapist gave them a wryly frown. And Olivia – again – rubbed at her eyebrow. Brian noticed – her tell – and rubbed his thumb down the back of her hand.

"And then to add to it," Olivia said, "it's pretty clear – as stated by her school, not just us – that Emmy's gifted. So on the other end of the spectrum we're trying to figure out how to navigate that."

"They've been pushing testing and other school options at us," Brian said and then pressed out. "She's five."

"And Benji's aware that all this is going on – in some capacity," Olivia said. "And it's really not helping with his self-esteem or his situation with his peers at school that he's starting to feel like his little sister is smarter than him."

"But Ben's smart too," Brian interjected. They held their hands tighter at that. "He's got his own skills and his own areas he's interested in."

"He's quite the athlete," Olivia said. "And he's got some real artistic talent. His older brother – uncle …" she corrected reluctantly. "Jack. He's Benji's biological uncle but I adopted him too. But, he's a really talented artist too."

"And has his own set of issues to stress us out," Brian whispered a bit and stared at the ground. "He had a real rough go through his childhood and teens too."

And again Olivia squeezed his hand. Because she knew – and she knew Brian knew – that Jack had been through more with his uncle than he let on. The abandonment and failure to provide necessities of life was only part of it. The beatings – that was another. They knew that Jack's uncle had near crushed his testicles. She didn't believe for a second it'd been that one incident, though Jack had never owned up to more than that. And she also had never been sure she believed that that crushing grip over top his jeans after he'd been tossed down those steps was exactly how or what had happened. Just like she didn't believe Jack's mother abandoning him, his sister's sexual practices and disappoints on display in front of her little brother and infant son, or the grossing recognition (that Jack didn't want confirmed) that his mother had been the same way and the father who raised him wasn't his biological father – were the only reasons Jack had such failed relationships so far. Olivia saw the way he was – and wasn't – around women. And she knew Brian did too. They'd talked about it. She knew he thought about it. And she knew he likely thought about it more now.

The therapist jotted another note and flipped the pages of their forms. "I didn't notice you mention him in the forms. Does he still live at home?"

"No, no," Olivia shook her head. "He's twenty-five now. He's actually just finishing up his Masters of Architecture."

"And preparing to continue his never-ending academic career with a Masters of Urban Sustainability and Landscape. Whatever that is."

She squeezed his hand harder. "Bri …"

"Well, we'll still take that over him holding out the hat about Law School again," he muttered. And then looked at the therapist again. "Emily's big into art too. We do the art classes and pottery and pottery painting and fucking paper mache and all that with them. Her and Ben – both love all science stuff too. Our house has been oozing slime since about summer vacation."

"Anything tactile," Olivia said. "It's been a big aspect of … calming and centering and just focusing both of them. Nearly since day one."

"And even though Ben has this dyslexia thing going on, he still loves books," Brian said. "Loves, loves the library. We're there all the time. Loves to be read to. I mean, Liv's read to him since day one too. We have the hold bedtime routine thing down. Storytime."

"And comics," Olivia said. "Benji's—"

Brian nodded hard. "No, it's both of them. Em too. Loves the pictures just as much. Into the super heroes. They both pretty much want to be Spiderman. Peter Parker."

"Or the Ninja Turtles," Olivia said. "Depending on the day."

"Countdown to Captain Marvel …" Brian said under his breath. They were still having back-and-forth on if either of the kids were old enough they were going to attempt that in the theatres. Especially Emmy.

Olivia just held at his hand tighter then, though. Because she knew they were about to move into a territory he didn't want to get into.

"So we've got those layers going on with them," Olivia provided. "And dealing with all of that – especially the school and academic aspects of it, their social well-being too – it's taken a toil on our relationship."

"In what ways?" the therapist asked.

Olivia looked at Brian but he moved to starting at the floor and fidgeting again.

"There's just a whole lot of conversation," Brian said. "We don't always agree on how we want to handle any of it. Creates conflict."

"And we often don't like to fight," Olivia said and held his hand.

"Or apologizing – or over-apologizing – to each other," he said.

"So instead we've got unresolved conversations and just … general distance between us in certain areas. Important areas for our family. And our relationship."

"Generalized stress," Brian provided flatly. "We're just out of sync."

She held at Brian's hand and watched him. She gave him a long beat to say more – or to direct this now but he didn't.

"We both are in fairly high stress jobs that carry a lot of responsibility – where we're bosses and supervisors – and then we've got two wonderful but highly energetic and severely traumatized kids at home that we love to the moon and back. But between work and the kids … we haven't been putting a whole lot of time into us for …"

"A while," Brian acknowledged and gave her a side look. "A long while."

"Yeah …," she agreed.

The therapist just took some more notes and looked at them. "So are you thinking you're looking for couples therapy or family therapy or something for the children?"

It sat there. Brian glared at her a bit. So Olivia interjected.

"Parenting therapy?" she suggested. The therapist just looked over to her. "Bri and I …," she said and felt his hand fidget in hers a bit. "We both have some trauma from things we've been through at work, on the job. And neither of us … had the best childhood. There's baggage there – that while we figure out how to best parent these two little people … that I just don't want us projecting onto them."

Brian let out a long exhale as the therapist took her scribbled notes and he gave Olivia more of a side look. But then he sat forward a bit on the couch and caught the therapist's eyes again.

"Look, therapy is not my thing. But my kids – and my relationship with her," he squeezed her hand. "That's my thing. So if you think you can explain navigate our fucking education system in a politically correct way so I can properly parent these kids, have at it. And if you've got suggestions on how to keep the news that when I was basically my kid's age I had my Little League coach molesting me – unzipping my pants and sucking my dick – from completely fucking up my relationship with her or with my little boy. Or my daughter. Sure, I'd love to know how I'm supposed to pull of that one too. No pun intended."

And he slumped back in the couch. And it didn't matter how tightly she was holding his hand then – how much his grip was crushing her knuckles and fingers – it did nothing to still the way his knee was bouncing then.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**The scene of them in the bedroom and Olivia thinking at the beginning of this chapter will likely be continued in the next chapter with them talking some stuff through. (Or I may go on to something else).**

**Reviews, feedback and comments are appreciated. Thanks for reading.**


	12. Fighting Words

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

**RATING ADJUSTMENT: LAST FEW PARAGRAPHS MOVE INTO MORE OF AN M REALM. THEY ARE IN ITALICS IF YOU WANT TO SKIP. **

Brian knew he hadn't said anything that Liv hadn't already heard before. He'd been careful about that. Wasn't like he actually wanted to say more anyway. Didn't want to talk about it at all. But he definitely hadn't pulled any punches in the language he used. Didn't keep it as PG-rated as being sexually molested by your Little League coach could even be. Had opted against the fucking teaching words for body parts and sex: penis, masturbation, oral sex. That wasn't what any of it was. Coach Gary was a child diddler. And he'd been diddled. End of story. His dick was fondled. It was sucked. It was played with. It was disgusting. And scarring. And Brian knew it'd completely fucked with his head – and his ability to maintain relationships and his sex life and his whole fucking being and personality – since he was eleven years old. He knew he was a different person than he would've been if that hadn't happened. It was a given. He knew that. How couldn't you be? Fuck.

But he really didn't feel like going into details. Not with some stranger sitting in some office. Her scribbling notes and just staring at him like he was some fuck-up on display for scientific investigation. Some sort of fucking research project. An article for Pyschology Today or some shit. Just fuck that.

He didn't want to talk to Liv about it either. He didn't. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't make him just feel like a victim. Nothing she could say that was going to fix it. That could change what happened. And he just didn't fucking know how she expected for him to 'deal with it' at this point in his life. He'd been dealing with it his whole fucking life. Dealing with it made him who he was today. And her being all 'deal with it' made him feel like now she had some kind of fucking problem with who he was today or who he was as her partner or … wannabe fucking spouse or whatever they fucking were. Some days he still didn't know what they were supposed to be. What they were doing. Family. He knew that much. But this 'dealing with it' made him feel like her real problem was with him as a father. Concerns about the kind of dad he was going to be – fucking was – to Ben or to Emily.

And it pissed him off. He'd never – NEVER – do anything to hurt them. NEVER. He'd completely understood that getting into this thing with Liv. He knew she was a packaged deal. He'd signed on for it. He fucking loved Ben. He loved Emily. He loved Olivia. He wasn't going to do something to fuck that up.

But then all this shit gets brought up and now it was just fucking it up. When it hadn't been a fucking problem before.

It so fucking pissed him off.

He was a little pissed off that Liv had brought the kids into it. He hoped she didn't think she'd pulled the wool of his eyes on that on. He saw from the get what was going on there. Use Ben and Em to get him into the shrink's office for "parental counselling". Like that even existed. He didn't fucking know. Sounded like a gimmick for – people like him. Who wouldn't go in themselves but would out of desperation to try to fix something for their kids.

It was a bit of a dirty play. He knew. He thought she knew it. She'd fucking know it. But she'd pulled it. She'd risked that he'd call her on it. That it really would create another fight between them.

So that said something too. Said how important going in and having that chit-chat with some kid that looked maybe twenty-eight years old and who they were supposed expect that she understood anything about what they or their kids or their family was going through. Like she'd have any kind of useful advice that they couldn't fucking look up and read on Google all on their own. And Brian had become a pro at the Googling. He fucking hated Google and all the crap on the internet. But all this crap about dyslexia and learning disorders and gifted children and social development and generalized anxiety and IEP and 504 plans and just wait it out crap and alternative schools. He'd Googled the fuck out of it. Just to keep up with Liv. So he could argue his fucking point and his side without sounding like a complete moron. Because he had opinions and they were his kids too.

They were his fucking kids. They were his fucking life. That's what he signed up for. It was what he wanted.

And Liv knew that. That's why she pulled that angle in. And it just betrayed her own desperation too.

She felt like they needed help. Help they weren't going to get talking in circles at home or not talking at all. Or all this … arguing by not arguing in hushed voices after the kids were in bed. When there'd been a whole lot of nights this past month where he really just wanted to raise his voice at her and fucking scream at her. Lash out. Tell her to fucking leave him alone. To drop it. To just shut up. Shut her mouth. Stop talking. He wanted to storm away and disappear. To find a bar and just lose himself.

But that wasn't him. It wasn't them. And Brian knew it scared him too that he felt like they were inching that way. It scared him what would happen if he reached that tipping point. Even though he knew Liv could raise her voice and yell right back at him and put him in his place too. That she could just as easily head for the door. But he thought she'd be more likely to take the kids with her if she did. And it wouldn't just be until she came home after a few too many or a night on Fin or Rollins' couch. It'd be a real break. Or a break-up.

And he couldn't do that now either. Not at this stage in his life. Not with how much he invested in her. In this relationship. In their kids. Not when she was the only fucking person in his life who saw value in him.

"I'm proud of you," she whispered against his chest. He didn't know if she knew it she was doing it but she was rubbing her index finger over the puckered flesh from his one bullet wound. It was taking everything in him to keep from moving her hand. But he was afraid he might grab it too tightly. That there'd be some kind of other message in it if he did.

"You don't need to keep saying that to me," he muttered.

"But I am," she whispered again.

He exhaled and stared at the ceiling until he closed his eyes. He couldn't do this. "Liv, you know that line you hand me – about just keeping my mouth shut? That's about where I'm at right now on us talking about this. I went in. I talked. We're home. It's late. I need you to shut your mouth about it now. Please."

"I know going into that session tonight wasn't easy for you," she said.

"Yea, well, you turned it into something about the kids," he muttered again. He knew he had tone in it this time, though. Whether he wanted it there or not. "So – predictable outcome. I went in."

"Bri…," she sighed.

"Look, I don't want to fight. So, again, please – I need you to stop talking about it. Now."

"I need to talk about it, Brian," she murmured against him. "Or … to start I'm not going to sleep."

"Then go make your tea," he pressed. Tone again. But he didn't move his arm. He didn't stop holding onto her. He knew it.

But she did shift. She pressed up a bit and she looked at him. "Maybe we need to fight."

He huffed and moved his arm that wasn't gripping her to press his thumbs into his eye sockets. There were fucking days he didn't know if it was her or the kids who caused him the bigger migraines. "Olivia, c'mon …" he exhaled.

She pulled his hand away from his eyes and looked right at him. "I know we don't fight, Bri. The last time we had a real fight – it was five years ago."

"Yea," he nodded at her. "And I really don't want to go back to where we were at then."

He'd almost lost them. All of them. He'd almost missed out completely on having Emily as his daughter. Having that ball of energy and just fucking joy in his life. Of not being there for Ben going through all this shit at school and all his goals in hockey. Just being a fucking spectator in the stands if he was lucky? Maybe seeing Liv in passing? Or not. Because he likely would've taken his Twenty and gone and batted golf balls in Florida or something. Not be here – with them. So that wasn't going to happen now. Especially not now.

"And I'm afraid if we don't let ourselves express … what we're feeling, Bri, we are going to end up back there. Or worse. We're going to implode – or explode – I don't know which. But it's going to hurt all of us. Not just you and not just me. The kids."

He shook his head. "You need to stop doing that," he hissed at her. "You know – you fucking know – making it about them—"

She touched his cheek. "It's not about them. But how we work through this – especially right now, with what's going on in their lives, who and what we need to be as parents for them – it's going to affect them."

"Us fighting is going to affect them," he pressed back at her. "You turning this thing – my thing – into a thing. Or our thing. That's the problem here."

"That's not what I'm doing, Bri," she muttered and shifted a little away from him.

"Isn't it?" he pressed again. "You haven't seemed to have a problem with my being a father to these kids before. And now? What? Some kiddie diddler touches me so I'm not Daddy material anymore?"

"Brian," she sighed.

"That's how you're making me feel," he said. "Like all of the sudden me being around is going to completely fuck the kind of man Ben grows into. Or … I don't even want to try to understand how you're framing the kind of father I now suddenly am to my daughter, Olivia. My daughter."

She exhaled and brushed at his hairline along his forehead. He pulled away slightly – but didn't. Not when her fingers found their way there again. Not as she skimmed them across the skin and just looked at him.

"You know, Bri," she murmured kind of far and away. "You know I have Daddy issues. And I had all these little girl fantasies growing up about who my father really was – before I knew what he really was. And I always thought he was going to be some prim and proper – stiff – professor-type disguised as a knight in shining armor who'd one day come and chariot me away from this evil witch of a mother."

"Yea, you've mentioned," he mumbled. And she gave him a little frown at that but still kept up the touch.

"I know it – all of it, growing up with a single mother, an alcoholic, finding out what my father was, all those little girl fantasies about who he really was – it affected the kind of men I dated."

"Ass-hats," he said.

She frowned a little – but an amused sound, a flare of the nostrils betrayed that she didn't disagree. That she knew.

"Ass-hats," Olivia did agree. "Prim and proper – stiff – overpaid men without a lot of substance underneath that vainer. And it took me a long, long time to recognize that. Brian, I don't even know if I knew I recognized it. Or when I recognized it. But I do know that one day sitting across from you in Mel's shitty dinner, watching you eat the most heart unhealthy meal imaginable, wearing that disgusting flannel that I'd like to burn and you running your mouth about … I can't even remember because I wasn't listening. I was looking at you and realizing right then that you were – you are – the man I really am supposed to be with. For the rest of my life, Brian."

He just stared at her. At her eyes. He loved her eyes. He could get lost in her eyes. But they were always so wounded. He didn't think she knew that either. Or maybe she did but she couldn't make them happier no matter how hard she tried. Because you can't erase that kind of lifetime of pain she had lived through. Enough for two or three lifetimes. Even when her eyes smiled they glistened a little. Happy they were happy tears in those moments. But the well was fucking deep there.

Brian felt like he was supposed to say something. Like he was supposed to reaffirm that he loved her too. But they'd been having this conversation on repeat lately. "I love you." "No, I love you." "No, I love you more." It just felt like it lost something the more you said it over and over again. As much as he wanted to hear it. He liked hearing it. He needed to hear it. He also … seeing it was better. Feeling it other ways was better than just words.

But that … it was more than just words. It was words coming out of her mouth but it was so much more than that. But all he would come up with in his head was some kind of remark about that shirt she hated. And that would've wrecked the moment. It would've completely obliterated all this. Even if he knew she would've expected that kind of stunt from him. Running his mouth in the most inappropriate ways.

So he did what she told him to do so often – what he'd already asked her to do that night, but maybe he was glad she hadn't listened to hear that monologue from her – he shut his mouth. He just stayed shut up.

So she kept talking. She filled the space.

"And now, I see you with our kids everyday," she said. "I see the kind of father you are. And I know it's not always easy for you. I know you didn't grow up with an example either. I know that being a parent probably isn't all you expected or hoped. But I see you – and how you're managing it, how you've taken on that role - and sometimes I feel … so jealous for my children that they are growing up with a Daddy like you. But I also feel just so, so happy for them that you are their father. You are what a father – a Daddy – should be, Brian. And that's not something that I will ever take away from you. Or them. And it's not something I want to lose either."

"So I'm an awesome dad and now let's fight about it," Brian put to her.

She sighed heavily at him. "That is not what I said."

"Then what are you saying Liv? 'Cause all I'm hearing is a whole lot of buttering me up to back me into some kind of corner. I know the gimmick. I can do it too. Connect, relate, interrogate."

"This isn't an interrogation, Brian," she barely got out. It was so quiet. Almost defeated. And that stung him a bit too.

"Then tell me what it is," he pressed. "Or just make this easier on the both of us, tell me what it is that you want me to say. What it is that you fucking need to hear."

"I just want you to talk to me, Brian." She did raise her voice that time. Very nearly yelled. And then stopped and held up a hand in vague apology. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a long beat before opening to stare right at him – almost through him, at least into him, again. "Am I really that hard to talk to?"

Brian just exhaled and redirected his eyes to stare at the ceiling. The weight of her staring down on him felt heavy enough but then her hand came down onto his chest. And it felt staggering.

"Do you have any idea how it makes me feel to know that right now – you aren't, can't talk to me. That both my sons won't talk to me. That even Benji's school prefers to talk to you."

His eyes found hers. He tried to glare but he couldn't. It just wasn't happening. "Yea, I do," he said. "Lots of things you don't – won't - talk to me about either. Not once."

And the weight of that hand slipped away. She slipped away a bit. And she just sat there next to him in that bed, breathing slowly.

"And you told me that I wasn't protecting you," she finally managed to get out. "That I was only protecting myself. And you're right. I was. I do. But you are doing the exact same thing now, Bri. You have been – for the twenty-one years I've known you. And, okay, then – we were young, we worked together, we were different people, it was a different relationship. I can accept and understand then. But now, Bri? What are you so scared of?"

"That," he pressed at her again. "Right, there. You doing some kind of deconstruction of fucking twenty years of friendship. Unboxing a seven year relationship that until four weeks ago, you didn't have a fucking problem with."

Her hand came back to him. It touched his cheek. "Our relationship has problems, Bri. It always has."

"No," he shook his head. "We've got a good foundation. We've got years of history. Got mutual respect. Got a whole lot of love. We've got-"

"Lots of secrets that we keep from one another and a lot – a lot, Brian – of work to do on being able to talk to each other. Openly and honestly without fear of … for me … abandonment, doing this on my own, being alone. For you … ?" and she shrugged. "I think it's the same but maybe a little more complicated than that."

He just stared at the ceiling. "Seriously, Olivia, what's talking about it going to do? You've dealt with enough pain for one lifetime."

"What about your pain?"

"I'm fine," he muttered.

"No, you're not fine," she pressed back at him and got into his line of sight again. "You need to deal with this so much – for so long – you don't even realize how much it's consumed you."

"Yea, Liv, I'm pretty sure I know how much this has fucked me."

She stared at him. "Do you realize the way you are at Benji's games?"

"Whatever," he mumbled. "You know what I would've given to have a dad up in the stands a nearly every fucking one of my games?"

Her hand was on his cheek again. "That you always have something in your lap, Bri. Pillows, hoodies, a bag. You're protecting yourself. Still."

He just shook his head and looked away again.

"You love routine, Brian," she said. "You hate when we switch things up."

"And our kids need routine. So I don't get what the problem is not trying out a different brunch spot every fucking Sunday."

"Our severely traumatized, abandoned, abused and adopted children who struggle with anxiety need routine, Brian. How many of those adjectives apply to you too?"

He cocked his head at her and did glare that time. "See, this," he said. "Deconstructing. Unboxing. And why? What's the fucking point? You've heard multiple times now what happened. And what is it that you think it's doing besides giving me fucking anxiety, Olivia? There's nothing you can say – or do – now that's going to change what happened."

"I know that," she said. "But I can help you deal with it."

"I am dealing with it. I have dealt with it since I was eleven years old. Fine."

"You are not fine, Brian," her voice flared up again.

He shook his head and pressed his knuckles into the bed to push himself upright. He was done. But she grabbed his shoulder and tugged hard until he turned to meet her angry, watery eyes too.

"This is hurting me too, Brian," she said.

"Yea, we're all victims here," he muttered laxly, sarcastically.

She gripped his shoulder hard and then knocked it hard as she released it. "I'm so angry at you, Brian," she said and her voice cracked when she said it.

He stared at her over the shoulder for his perch on the edge of the bed. He watches as she try to keep tears from coming out of her eyes and her hair in place while she tried to hide them from her. He couldn't watch that and adjusted himself a bit – pulling her back against him. The two of them sitting there in the bed. A long time.

"Why are you angry?" he finally asked quietly when he could feel in her body that she'd calmed.

"All these … little things that … I internalized and felt guilty about because I thought I … it was me being unfair to you or this relationship. And if you'd just told me … something."

"Like what …?"

"Oral …," she muttered. "I thought you were … respecting my boundaries. And the longer we've been together I've like … it's been unfair—"

"I just didn't think it was something we needed to get into," he mumbled into her hair. "You said it was off the table. I was fine with that. I mean, c'mon, Olivia, that'd make me boyfriend of the year in some women's books. I wasn't gunning to make you feel guilty about anything. I didn't even know you were feeling that way about it."

"Because we don't communicate, Brian," she said.

"Okay," he acknowledged quietly. "I'll give that there's room for improvement."

He shifted and lay them back down. He let her adjust. Felt her settle back against him. To rest her head back on his chest again. And he held at her.

"I don't want you deconstructing our sex life," he finally whispered toward the ceiling.

She held him a bit tighter for what felt like a long time. "I'm not," she finally said nearly as quietly. "You're the longest I've been with a man. You know that."

"Yea …," he allowed. "Same."

"I know," she said. "And I've always been really comfortable with you, Bri. Even after … Sealview … Lewis. I think you've made it as easy for me as any of it can be. I trust you. I like what you do to me, for me. My body."

He rubbed his cheek against her forehead. "Okay …"

"I'm being honest, Bri," she whispered into his chest again. "That's an area we've always been really good at. From my perspective."

"Same …," he managed. But he felt his eyes stinging too. He was at a point in his life that he didn't know how he'd pull his shit together if he ever lost her to ever have a relationship again. A normal one. He'd never had a normal relationship before her. He'd never really had a relationship, period. Until this.

"I like when you take care of me," she said and he felt her roll her eyes a little even though he couldn't see them. "Not just in the bedroom."

"Sometimes I don't really know how," he allowed. "Or if that's what you want from me."

Her hand went back to that spot on his chest. The incident that had brought them crashing back together. Her fingers rubbed there.

"Sometimes I feel the same way," Olivia admitted and strained her neck a bit to find his eyes. He tucked his chin down so she could. "You work so long in such a hyper-masculinized and hyper-sexualized environment, Bri. Sometimes around the worst parts of masculinity. Toxic masculinity. And I understand – from a woman's perspective, working the job – what that can do to you. How that changes you. But I see … how hard you work for people to either like you or for them to hate you, Brian. I see who you are on the job in these different positions and roles you've had. I've seen how you change. I see how you are in bars or around other cops. Around people you like and people you hate. I know … you have those rough and unpolished sides to you. I know what your temper and fuse with other people can be. But I also know you at home, Bri. I know … how you are with me. And with the kids. I know the funny, silly, soft, gentle, incredibly loving and giving and insanely protective side of you. But I still sometimes don't know if you want me to treat you like this persona – the man's man – you put out there for the world. Or you want me to cater to the off-the-clock, goofy guy who slowly wore me down and completely won me over? Because I feel like you think that guy is a lesser man than 'the cop'."

He sighed and held her. He didn't have an answer. And he didn't know what the answer was. He did know she had a point. More than one. So they just lay there until he managed, "You versus Lieutenant Benson can fuck with my head too."

"Okay …," she allowed quietly.

They lay there again. A longer time. He knew she wasn't sleeping. Her fingers were still moving. And he was still staring at the ceiling – trying to sort out of his thoughts and just trying not to think.

"The longer we're in a relationship the more I realize how little I know about relationships," she whispered. "Or how bad I am at them."

"I don't think we're that bad at it," Brian said. "I mean, we're together, we aren't talking separation, we aren't fucking around behind each other's backs as far as I know, and our kids actually seem to like us and recognize our faces. That's like at least six-times better than a lot of cops I know."

He felt her smile a little against his chest. So he smiled a little into her hair.

"I just really need you to know, Bri, that we do need to talk the next while and if that means we fight – it's okay. I understand we might say things that hurt each other in a lot of different ways and a lot of different levels. But I really can't think of anything that would make me … walk away from this. Us. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay …," he allowed after a long exhale. He was going to have to trust she wasn't just feeding him a line. Backing him into a corner again.

Her cheek rubbed against his chest again. "I'm scared to talk about some of it too," she whispered. "To take down some of our walls. To be honest. But … Bri, I really do understand that what happened and how you've dealt with it so far, it's made you who you are. And that's not something – someone – I want to change. I love you, value you, feel pride in you – for you. The you I know. That I've grown up with and old with."

"We aren't that old," was all he managed to quip. He thought she felt in his heart and breathing that it'd hit him other was. He at least felt it in his eyes.

She must've felt it. Because she just held onto him in the heavy silence again. A long time.

"I'm likely going to need you to give me some guidance on what you need from me too," she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "I guess … to start … if you want us to see if your mom could take the kids for an overnight so we have some time to talk or just be alone. Or if we should … start scheduling a 'date night' where we actually leave the house and the kids on a semi-regular basis and look at each other and talk to each other."

"Put like that, sounds real romantic," he muttered.

She smiled a small amount. "Or if you need me to take some time off to be here for the family – for you, to lighten the load a bit – for a few weeks."

He squeezed her shoulder. "We don't need to go that route."

"Or to just take the kids and get away as a family – together – complete change of scenery for a bit. Go and see Cragen and Eileen? Get some sun?"

He sighed. "Things are too fucked with the kids' school situation to be pulling them out. And it will be fucking Looney Toons down there for spring break, Easter."

"I really doubt it will be in their retirement community."

He smiled into her hair. "And you really think we're going to spend the entire time we go down there sleeping in their guest room and hanging around community pool with the Denture Set and the shuffle board?"

He felt her grin against his chest again. "I think Benji and Emmy will really like shuffle board."

"Yea, somehow I think they'll like the beach, body boarding, hunting for shark teeth, deep sea fishing, swimming with manatees, and going out on sponge boats and dolphin cruises a whole lot better."

Eileen had definitely been working at slowly hyping them up enough about that over the years in basically twisting their arm into eventually booking a family holiday in their condo down there – presumably while her and the Cap were their too. It sounded pretty decent to Brian too until pretty much that last point. But he thought it was likely an irrevocable clause in this whole deal.

"And you think we have to worry about your typical spring break crowds for those activities?"

"Yea, well, I wasn't expecting us to get over to Daytona or Cape Canaveral, Cocoa."

"Right, because those will be super busy too," Olivia muttered. "Rocket ships and race cars …"

"That's absolutely all along the Spring Break beach area."

"Mmm …," she allowed. "But it's also not the theme parks that I'm pretty sure your internet search history has betrayed you've been Googling."

He rubbed his cheek against the crown of her head. "Big Man just said something about it. I was just looking. Prices."

"Ridiculous?"

"Think we'd have to sell this place to afford to go," he said. It got an amused sound. He gripped at her shoulder.

"Are you sure super hero land, Transformers, Harry Potter's castle, Cat in the Hat in person with green eggs and ham, and Jurassic Park dinosaurs aren't priceless?" she whispered. He made a sound at that readily recited list and he felt her smile again. "I may have looked around the site when you'd left it on the screen. You should learn to close the browser."

"Kids should learn not to interrupt me when I'm in the middle of something clearly very important," he muttered and then waited a beat. "Spring break would be a shit time to go. Crowds. We'd all hate it."

"We could just go away for a weekend, like we talked about," she said.

"Where?"

"I don't know. DC, Virginia Beach, Montauk, Philly, Boston? Canada?" she suggested. "Off the top of my head."

He made a sound. "Rather save the cash for when we do get down to Florida. Or to do a beach house rental in the summer."

She gripped his shoulder again and that time a kiss planted against his chest. "Bri, I know you grew up with your mom having to stretch dollars really far. But we really don't need to live that hand-to-mouth. We can afford to treat ourselves and spoil the kids sometimes. Maybe it'd be good for us to do that at least once or twice a year."

"Maybe …," he allowed.

She shifted again slightly and he watched her – as she moved up him a bit and found his lips, placing a brief initial peck against him mouth and then based on his response moving back in for a much longer kiss. She nudged his lips to part his mouth a bit and he let her. He just enjoyed it – even though she tasted pretty much like stale coffee and toothpaste. That was basically a Liv standard.

"That was nice," he smiled at her. She smiled back. "See, don't need to go away, switch it up. Like you said – like my routine."

"Mmm …," she allowed and strained her neck to look back at the clock glowing on the night stand. She turned back to him gave him a little smile, she massaged a bit at his bicep. "Speaking of routine, we've got some leeway until their witching hour."

_He lifted his head a bit to take a look and then returned his mouth to hers. They kissed and her hand moved to find his and guide it down the front of the pair of his boxers she'd pulled on – without panties. He fingered her carefully and then broke away to give her a mildly surprised look. She was really wet._

_Liv captured his mouth again. "Areas we need to work on, Bri. This doesn't have to be one," she whispered at him as she briefly broke the kiss enough to catch his eyes. "I'm ready. Are you?"_

_And he returned his mouth to hers and pressed her back into the bed gently, pushing up the leg of the boxers high and wide until she was nearly fully exposed. She was already tugging down the front of his own shorts while he moved to get between her spread legs. _

_He reached and shifted her hand a bit – letting her touch him, grip him, stroke him. It was a move that caused her to break the kiss again and give him a surprised look. It was another area he often didn't move her hands to – and generally moved her hands from after not too long. But he let himself feel it as her hand worked for a few gently, steady strokes, while she stared him right in the eye._

_He leaned back in to kiss her and settled down as she guided him in. She was so ready he just slipped right in. He pressed into her as they kept their mouths locked. He could feel her pressing up against him and he ground against her as he thrust down. The movement caught in her throat and then his as he felt her twitch and contract around him._

_He had to separate from the kiss and hung his head a bit next to her ear. "This – you – feel so good," he muffled against the side of her head._

"_You too," he felt in hot breath against his ear._

That was enough. For now. Good enough. So fucking comfortable in the discomfort. But he'd still take it. With her. From her. Worth it. One hundred percent.

**READER FEEDBACK, COMMENTS AND REVIEWS ARE APPRECIATED.**


	13. Shared Space

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Brian breezed into the SVU bullpen, spinning his keychain a bit in his hand. It'd become a bit of a worry spot for him lately. Just another thing to keep in grounded and centered when he felt himself drifting. Letting his mind – or his anger and his temper – going places it shouldn't be going. Not at work. Not at home. Not sitting in traffic.

This thing the kids got him. More like Liv had had made for him but that the kids had given to him. Father's Day. Last year. Still a bit of a trip that he got to … celebrate that. Or have that day assigned to him or something.

It was just this simple engraved piece of stainless steel. "Daddy's our favorite super hero" it said. A cut-out like a badge pretending to be a Superman crest – even though he'd gone hardcore Marvel with the kids but Liv still didn't exactly understand the complexities of the DC versus Marvel universe. He'd stopped trying to explain. Left that up to Big Man. He didn't get quite the same annoyed looks he did whenever he had to go trying to tell her that whatever Transformer, Ninja Turtle or super hero or videogame character she'd picked out as some gift for the kiddos was from the wrong era or franchise.

The spot where the badge – crest – had been cutout was mirrored off on the ring, hanging as two pieces that came together to form that badge – the kiddos initials engraved in them.

B-E. Found it funny sometimes when he stopped to think about it. Their initials. That message. Like they were constantly reminding him to B-E that superhero. He was trying.

His thumb ran over the message again as the keychain flipped into his hand.

Course he had to fucking find parking here. 'Cause of course Liv hadn't been out waiting on the street like she'd said she would be. Also hadn't been answering his texts or calls. So now he'd had to park and sign in to come up her and ride her ass to get her out the door so that maybe they'd still get back across to Carroll Gardens in time for this fucking meeting at the kids' school.

Not that that looked too likely now that he was up there. Her office door was open. Computer and files still on the go on her desk. And she was on the fucking phone looking somewhere between frazzled and downright annoyed. So standard Liv.

Still rapped on the frame and nodded at her as her eyes came to him. "Babe," he mouthed at her and tapped at his watch.

She gave him an almost apologetic look and held up her finger – like all she needed was one more minute. Seriously fucking doubted that.

He sighed a bit and gave the rest of the squad room a bit of a glance. Fantastic. Rollins was still there and already giving him this look. That look. The pity look. The let's talk look. Wasn't down for that.

Instead went and gave Fin a knock on the shoulder. "Hey, brother."

"Cassidy," he greeted with a fist bump. "What you doing here?"

He slouched down into Carisi's vacant seat and gestured back at Liv's office. "Supposed to be going to do a bit of a smackdown with Big Man's principal. But …"

"Mmm …," Fin allowed, giving her office a long look over his shoulder.

"So what you say there, Number Two, you want to go claim some of the files off that desk of hers and drag her out here," Brian nodded at him.

Fin just turned back to him and gave a real unimpressed look. Gestured at his own pile of files and paperwork. "Think I've got enough right here, man."

Brian sighed and slouched back more, still eyeing Liv's door. Counting down the seconds.

"Hear ya," he allowed. "Should see the mountain on my desk. Tell ya, don't mind not getting shot at. But if they'd briefed me on the paperwork avalanche that the gig had waiting for me …" he gave his head a shake.

A whole lot of pros and cons to his work.

Pro: Not getting shot at when he had two little kids who called him 'Daddy'.

Pro: Having a gig with fairly predictable hours where he knew that like 90% of the time he'd be home by dinner.

Pro: He still got to be a cop in some capacity and he was investigating a whole lot more interesting shit than laundromat robberies.

Pro: He wasn't an IA rat or sitting on his ass in nightshift in a court house about as far from where he was living as he could get.

Pro: He got to spend a lot of time in the box (even though technically he was supposed to be assigning most of that work to his subordinates, he still got in there as much as he could) and he liked that – the interrogation of crossing the Ts and dotting the Is.

Pro: He got to make sure a whole lot of assholes on both sides of the spectrum didn't get away with any disgusting bullshit. Not the dirty or lazy cops and not the fucking nauseating dirtbags that he ended up dealing with on a lot of these cases.

Con: He was supposed to be the boss and team lead and supervisor.

Con: That meant he spent way too much of his life just dealing with filling out forms and filling paperwork and reviewing a lot of other's people's paperwork.

Con: He generally had to deal with a whole lot more people on a daily basis than he'd prefer to deal with.

Con: No matter how good he did his job, it still left a whole lot dependant on the assigned ADA to not fuck shit up in the courtroom.

Con: Still a whole lot of politics involved – arguably more than just within the NYPD – in how any of these cases really went in terms of getting them in front of the court.

Con: It wasn't exactly the career or life he'd imagined for himself.

But when he started thinking that he stopped and did another rub at that keychain. Reminded himself that doing this job meant he was getting to have the life he'd imagined for himself – had wanted a long time – on the flip side of it. The home-front. The personal and private.

He had a good woman – who at least understood the gig and the paperwork and the being the boss and what being a cop meant. He had two awesome kiddos. He had a fucking nice place to live in a real good family-friendly neighborhood. And he was working a job that let him support that. His family. He had the benefits and nearly every weekend off. The sick leave and the paid vacation. He had all the fucking state holidays and stats. He had the public servant discounts and privileges. He had a really decent pay check by New York City standards. He couldn't complain too much. Didn't really complain at all. Tried not to. Vent – that was different.

"Heard a bit about what's going on with Ben," Fin shook his head at him. Gave him a screwed up, unimpressed face.

"Yea," Brian nodded back at him. "You hear the latest?"

"What's that?"

He sat forward so he could beat at the desk a bit – emphasize what the fuck was going on her.

"This woman that's been grooming her kid into the little ring leader antagonist – she's been spouting at us and the fucking school administration like she's some kind of new wave activist with some fraction of Black Lives Matter. So all kinds of political correctness bullshit has kicked in about how they deal with this little mean girl because of who – or what – this woman has been presenting herself as. Only me and Liv – we're fucking sick of it. This woman has come at both of us – for being cops and shit she fucking thinks she knows about us from Google News-ing it or something. Got this kid of hers saying such fucking bullshit to Ben. And she's bigger than him. She's getting in his space – pushing him around. Seriously, that should've been enough for the school to intervene. But no. So, fine. This woman knows how to Google. So do we – and then some. We look her up. Make some calls. Turns out that none of the big, legitimate activist fronts in the city – haven't even fucking heard of her. No involvement anywhere with anything as far as we can tell. Beyond spouting – I don't even know what to her kid. Enough to turn Ben into some kind of target that the rest of these kids in his grade having fucking dog-piled on. So, now – you know, we don't want the school to just fucking step up this whole bullying situation when they are supposed to have a fucking Zero Tolerance policy. And, I fucking guarantee, that if Ben had gotten into this girl's space, pushed her back or mounted some sort of gang front on her – he wouldn't still be getting to play on that playground and then some. So, fix that. And, they better fucking get some actual legitimate groups and activists to come in there and re-educate the whole fucking student body on Black Lives Matter and Me Too and Time's Up and whatever fucking else. Better get someone from our Education and Public Affairs in there too to give a presentation. And some organization that actually knows how to deal with fucking bullying – because clearly this school's principal doesn't. Fruit didn't fall too far from the tree with this one. Mother and daughter ain't so different."

Fin just stared at him. Long. Could feel Rollins staring at Fin's reaction and him too. Ignored it. Avoided all eye contact with her.

"I hear you, man," Fin said. Finally. "Lots of situations with Ken where I wanted to crack some skulls too over the years. Still now. But I think you're likely gonna want to take it down several notches before you're in the principal's office." He jutted his thumb in Liv's general direction. "Or you might be in the dog house too."

Brian exhaled and looked back to Liv's office as he slumped back. "Yea …," he allowed. He scrubbed his face and then stared at him. "So you coming to Emmy's non-party party thing or what?" He forced himself to change topics. Fin was right. Couldn't go into this meeting more worked up than he already was.

"I'm not really getting this whole non-party party thing …?" Fin put out there.

"Mmm …," Brian grunted and eyed Liv's office again. "A non-party party is apparently what happens when you tell your significant other: 'I don't think we should have a party this year. I hate parties. They cost a fortune to have a bunch of annoying brats in our house, ruining our weekend and leaving a disaster for us to clean up, when right now we aren't even really loving this whole 'school community' thing we've got going on. And then she says: 'That makes a lot of sense, Bri. We wont' have a party. But we should still have 'family' over for cake.' And then in the next conversation it's cake and dinner and then it's cake and dinner and 'oh, it's her birthday, we should have some decorations' and then it's 'Bri, our friends and family have kids too – we should have a craft or game or something for the kids to do'. So then you're hosting a non-party party."

"Women …," Fin provided.

He shook his head. "Yea. My mother was definitely a willing accomplice in this fucking escalation fo the initial descalation."

"Jesse's really looking forward to the party," Rollins offered from the next desk over. Brian didn't look at her – offered a grunt. It got a look from Fin and then the two of them shared a look. "Especially the narwhal snot."

Fin shook his head and waved his hands. "Whoa, whoa. Narwhal snot?"

Brian made a sound. "Slime," he provided. "She's all about the slime these days."

"Slime?" Fin made an even more confused face at him.

"Get with the times, Tutuola," Rollins said. "You're a Pappy now. Got to keep up."

Brian sat forward a bit and pulled out his phone. He dinged Liv again. He heard it vibrate on her desk and saw her shoot him a look. But the office phone was still stuck to her ear. He opened his photos and flipped around a bit.

"It's a craft project, slash science project," he provided and handed the phone across to him.

The weekend's latest slime efforts. It wasn't the best photo of the kiddos but he thought it was pretty funny. Em was holding her hands out with the gunk trickling through her fingers while Ben was bent over top of them with his mouth wide open like he'd just ralphed it up. Liv was in the frame. Her face was completely betraying that she thought it was a minor riot too. But the kids had been in fine form that afternoon.

"Looks like Jaden what leaves in his diaper," Fin scrunched up his nose. He saw Rollins trying to wheel her chair over a bit to take a look and he put out his hand to get the phone back before she did. None of her damn business.

"Yea, just about," Brian allowed, as he checked out the photo again.

He flipped through a few more from the weekend. Just for himself – wasn't going to share them. They'd done Science Saturday over at the library that weekend. Kiddos always opted for that over the whole Circle Time craft thing the once a month it went on. They were pretty much obsessed with it. And him and Liv were pretty obsessed with doing messy science experiments in a place that wasn't their dining room table. Not to mention with the cold and snow and rain and icy that winter – any excuse to get out of the house with the kids was a good excuse. There was definitely some stir-crazy cabin fever antics going on. Wasn't helping things for him.

"That's actually more of an non-Newtonian fluid than strictly slime." There was silence. He glanced up and saw the way Fin was looking at him. "Yea, you should hear that coming out of a five-year-old's mouth."

"Should hear it coming out of your mouth," Fin nodded at him.

He allowed a quiet amused noise and just stared back down at picture of his kiddos.

"Yea, well the shit you do – learn – for your kids, right," he muttered and gave Tutuola a look. "The little egg heads could explain the science of it." He whizzed his hand over his head. "Do know this was an Oobleck experiment," he shook his head again. Could still feel Rollins looking at him. Almost like she thought he was cute in that moment. That annoyed him, though. "It's from a Dr. Seuss book. Getting high rotation in our house these days. Slime from the sky related. It's actually pretty fucking mind bending. A liquid when you touch it, lift it but it's like a solid if you hit at it or manipulate it in your hands. Roll it. But a real fucking mess. We'll just be doing the glue and contact lens solution thing with the kids for the non-party party."

Fin grunted and kept looking at him. Cassidy put the phone back in his pocket – after dinging Liv again. He got a glare from inside her office that time.

"I need to bring a present to this thing?" he put to him.

Brian snorted amusement at that comment. "You're seriously asking me if you should show up with a gift for the sixth birthday of a little girl?" Fin just looked at him. "I'm feeding you Fudgie the Narwhal cake and a birthday girl-requested menu of hot dogs and Cheetos that I'm sure will evolve into something way more complicated before this shindig happens. And I'm sending you home with snot slime for your grandkid. What do you think?"

"Don't listen to him," Rollins directed at Brian. "Fin completely spoiled Jesse at her birthday."

"Yea, well, actually the kids already have way too much crap. Don't feel like you have to bring anything. Pressence is the present, etc," Brian said.

"Good thing too. I know I'm still in the running for favorite uncle with Jesse and Billie," Fin said. "I know who's got top spot with your kid already."

Brian smiled at that. "What Munchie Munch? C'mon, brother. It's a losing battle to even try to compete with Unkie Munchie. Sun rises and sets on the adopted Munkins."

"How is he doing?" Amanda asked.

Brian allowed her a glance at that and shrugged a bit. He looked back away and rubbed at the keychain in his pocket again. "Ah, you know, he copes with cracks about now being a lone nut suffering pay back for years of busting balls. Outside that, Trump's America's got him in his conspiracy theory glory. Only a lot of his babble doesn't sound quite as nutty anymore."

"How's he look …?" Fin asked.

Brian sighed a bit and shook his head, stared at the desk for a long second. Not his favorite topic. Johnny was about as close as he'd gotten to having a father figure. He'd pulled a lot of solids for him over the years. Helped him out big time – with the job and managing family life – getting him in as an Investigator. Hadn't ever been the first time John had his back. On a whole lot of things in a whole lot of circumstances. Really didn't want to be facing another potential – real potential – blow and loss. But that was life.

"Sick," he allowed. Real sick. Didn't say that. He looked at Fin, though. "He'll be out at Emmy's thing. Wouldn't miss it. You know?"

Fin nodded. "Good to know. Been a while. Doesn't seem like he wants much company. Have reached out."

"Yea, you know …," Brian muttered. John didn't want to people to see him going on like that. Didn't want their pity either. Brian got it. Pity and getting some kind of 'victim' label just made anything … worse.

"You seeing much of him, though?" Rollins asked.

Brian gave another little shrug. Didn't really want to talk to her. But this was talk about John. "Yea, actually seen a good bit of him lately," he allowed.

Because John let him talk and not talk as much as he wanted or needed. And talked sense in a way that made sense. For a guy who'd had so many fucking failed marriages, he sure had a lot of insight on how to keep from fucking it up with Liv and the kiddos. Had pulled on his ear more than once over the past fucking seven years. Big enough there was a lot to tug on there. John kept him in his place, though. Maybe – likely – loved Liv and those kids more than a little bit more than him and didn't pull any punches on what a fucking schmuck he'd be – just what he'd do to him – if he managed to screw it up. Been clear – he wasn't going to do much better than what he got. Not that Brian didn't know that already. But having someone else tell you was something else.

Told him again now. On repeat. Every time he stopped by. Don't let his own shit from the past fuck up what he had now. He had to deal. That was the message. Plain and to the point. Johnny didn't pity him. Didn't make him into a victim. Didn't make him feel like a dunce or a coward or some kind of lesser anything. And didn't ask too many questions. And kept his mouth shut after their chats too. John helped him keep things in perspective. Always had. Least when Brian let him.

"Bri …," he finally heard and glanced up from his examination of the desk. Liv had apparently wrapped what she could wrap there for the day. Didn't look she was at all wrapped for the day. Was working at stuffing her computer and tablet and a couple files into that giant bag that she still fucking called a purse.

Brian pushed himself to rise but she gestured off toward the restrooms. Clearly a pit stop was in the plan before they tried to battle traffic to still maybe get to the school while the principal was maybe still in the building.

"I didn't have a chance for lunch today," she muttered in his general direction as she worked to rearrange all that crap to try to get it to fit. "Can you grab it out of the fridge for me?"

And she was gone. But he did as she asked, even though he figured she could leave it there and just maybe eat it the next day. Though, knowing Liv she also wouldn't get around to it the next day. It'd just eventually reach the point that she was scrapping it out into the trash. So he'd get it. Maybe she'd ingest something other than coffee on their battle toward Brooklyn.

He spotted her bag easy. They'd become those people too. Pack each other's fucking lunches. Though, he usually got that job too. Liv preferred to put off getting out of bed as long as she could in the morning and just going for the mad charge to get everyone out the door. Brian preferred a bit more leisurely pace. Though, that was really just an excuse. Lately he was the one in the family who wasn't sleeping. So he might as well be the one doing daily living chores crap.

He shut the fridge door to find Rollins standing right there. He gave her a look – a strong 'fuck off' look – and went to step around her.

"Cassidy – Brian," she sighed at him. "I just really wanted us to talk."

"What, Rollins? Got some new opinion on how I need to man up about something? Expert on schoolyard bullying? Save your breath."

"It's not like that," she said. "I just … I feel really badly about how things went …" she made a gesture.

He looked at her. "Oh, you mean when you called me a coward? Or you mean the fucking attitude you've given me for years about … what? My relationship with Liv? Because 'God only knows why she trusts me'? 'Why she's with me'? What - you jealous?"

"Brian … I wanted to apologize. For before - last month, I was out of line."

"Damn right you were," he pressed at her. "You've hated me for years."

"I don't hate you," she interrupted.

He cocked his head at her. Glared. "Telling me that I don't give a damn about her – or anyone but myself. That's real rich coming from you. You don't know shit about me. Or my life. Or what my very personal, private relationship is like with Liv or my kids. What kind of partner I am or father I am. No matter what you think – you aren't privy to any of that. You don't have a fucking clue what it means to be in that kind of relationship. You're terrified of it. The kind of fucking work and sacrifice and vulnerability it takes. So, yea, I'm sorry for what you went through. What it's done to you. But just because you went through that – it doesn't mean you've got any concept at-fucking-all of what I went through as a kid, as a man, and as a fucking life-partner, a spouse - and father now. Let alone as a fucking male cop who's already been wearing a black mark for years."

She just looked at him. "That's fair …" she allowed. But her voice didn't sound like she believed that. Maybe Brian didn't believe it.

Maybe he was being unfair. Maybe he knew he knew - 'cause he was aware of the level of his voice. Aware of Fin out that door watching like he was going to have to make a beeline in there to break them up. Aware of if he could see Liv coming back - because this confrontation - conversation - it'd rub her the wrong way and cause a thing. That she'd tell him that he should just learn to keep his mouth shut - to not let things light his fuse, that they dealt with enough tantrums at home for him to be having any. Even though Brian knew enough to know that Rollins had rubbed Liv a little the wrong way in all this too. Like she knew anything and then some - and spouted what she knew - running her mouth with her opinions - to Liv.

So yeah - maybe blasting Rollins wasn't fair or wasn't right. But it was still where he was at either her. He wasn't ready for her. Or to hash this out with her. Or anywhere close to wanting to let bygones be bygones. Forgiveness or whatever it was that she wanted or needed. Whatever approach she'd been educated in in her rehab and support groups. Reconnect, apologize, get forgiveness. Fuck that. He wasn't going to have some kumbaya moment with her. Fireside chats weren't in their future.

He started to move but then looked back at her. "Look, I know that you and Liv have some sort of sisterhood here. Fine. I get where that's coming from. And know that to Liv that means you're 'family'. And, yea, I will show up at the 'family' functions and hold my drink and give a polite smile. We'll invite you and your girls to 'family' shit at our house. But we aren't friends. And, we are a real long way from us ever, EVER, coming close to that."

He did step around her at that.

"I'm not going away, Brian," she said flatly behind him.

"Fine," he pressed out. "But right now, I'd appreciate if you stayed out of my space when we do have to share a room."

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Readers' reviews, comments and feedback are really, really appreciated. It helps me know what's resonating and it also is nice motivation to keep writing and posting. Right now I only have about 3-4 more chapters planned out.**


	14. What Fits

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia pulled her eyes away from watching her Little Fox's concentrated and purposeful efforts with his markers and colored pencils on the piece of art paper in front of him. His eyes moving between his art and the propped up tablet.

She'd heard Brian come in the front door but she hadn't called out and neither had he. He had likely weighed the noise-level in their home when he'd come in the door and decided that they might be taking a nap or out back. But he'd crept up the stairs and was now giving her the same sad, concerned look she knew she was mirroring. The same look that had been creasing across her face for hours even though she kept trying to give her son little smiles.

"Hey," she mouthed silently at Brian. He attempted a smile for her too but it really just creased as a frown.

She stroked at Benji's hair and ran the back of her index finger down his cheek. But he still didn't look. "Daddy's home," she told him gently. But even that didn't get him to pull his eyes from the paper when most nights he was just as likely as his little sister to be at the door before Brian could even get his coat or boots off.

Brian came over and put his hands on the back of one of chairs surrounding their dining room table. They gripped at it. Olivia could see how white his knuckles became in that grip. He stared at the little boy they'd been raising today but Benji still didn't glance up.

"Hey, Big Man," Brian tried so evenly. "Heard it's been a bit of a rough day."

Benji only shrugged.

Olivia reached and ruffled at the short hair on the back of Benji's neck. He let her but still didn't visibly acknowledge her. So she looked back up to Bri, keeping her hand on her son.

"Benji's feeling a little tired," she provided and gave Bri a little nod. "They gave him a sedative to help us stay calm today. But he felt it was pretty important to get home and draw a couple more pictures for his science fair project before we have to take it in tomorrow."

Brian allowed a little nod and went back to examining the set up that Benji had in front of him.

"Looks good, Ben," Brian said. "You're a real talented artist."

"It's a scientific diagram," Benji said – or corrected. "Not art."

Brian allowed a thin smile. "Still looks pretty good to me," Bri tried again. "Pretty proud of how committed you're being to getting this project all wrapped all on your own accord. Real studious of you."

That earned him a small glance from Benji but their son then went back to his death grip on his art supplies.

Brian sighed a little and looked at her. "Where's Em?"

Olivia jutted her head in the direction of the window they were sitting next to at the table. Brian nodded and moved to stand next to it and gaze out it at their daughter playing around in the melting snow and mud of their little garden lot.

Last time Olivia had checked, Emmy was using one of street hockey sticks they had back there like a hatchet to axe into the slowly defrosting ground. It looked like she was working at creating her own river system for all the run-off from the ice and snow that kept trying to melt – only for the city to be pummelled once again that year. Actually, it really looked like she was working at creating a big mess in the little bit of grass and landscaping they did manage out there. But she'd just left it. She could tell Benji needed some calm down time without his little sister wanting attention or a playmate. She'd deal with cleaning up their daughter – or the mud she and her boots brought into the house – when Emmy realized Daddy was home and came charging inside.

"I'm going to check dinner," Olivia told the two of them. She bent and placed a kiss in the crown of Benji's head as she rose. But he once again didn't budge or acknowledge her.

She moved toward the kitchen, keeping Brian's eyes as she went and then gesturing with her head for him to follow. He did, squeezing Benji's shoulder as he did.

Olivia slumped against the counter and waited for him to appear. He was pulling at his chin like he did when he wasn't sure what to do or say or how to act. When he was trying to give her space to direct the situation. But it just made her eyes water and she shook her head hard at him. And then he was immediately over to her and holding her. And she just held on to him – fighting desperately to keep in tears. To save the tears and the sobs and the fear and anger for later. For after the kids were to bed and they couldn't see or hear them.

"I should've been there," Brian muttered into her hair.

"It was just supposed to be the respiratory consult," she mumbled. "We didn't know."

"I should've come when you called," he said.

"You couldn't," she allowed. "Not today. I understand." And she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and shook her head against him and pulled back a bit to retrieve it and look at it.

"Dodds?" Brian asked, gazing down at her screen as she did too.

She nodded, stepping back from him – letting go of him – to be able to reply. She pulled at her own chin as she hit send, shaking her head at the phone. "I'm likely going to have to go in," she said and gazed back into the dining room and sighed. "Hopefully after dinner. Bed." She shook her head again and keyed something else into the phone. "Tomorrow," she whispered. "Please, let this wait until the morning."

She felt Brian's hands on her elbows. "It's OK," he assured. "If you need to go, I can handle this."

Olivia nodded but then sighed, glancing at the defrosted chicken breasts on the counter. She'd put the two baked potatoes in the oven but she hadn't gotten any farther than that. Partially because Brian hadn't been clear on when he was going to be able to get home that night – even though she knew after that afternoon he was pushing to get out the door as quickly as possible. But it was mostly because she hadn't been able to pull herself away from her Little Fox.

She lifted up the chicken. "I haven't even started dinner," she muttered.

Brian nodded again and took the meat from her hands. "I can handle it," he said.

"It should be something he'll like. Something he'll eat," she said. "He won't eat. He hasn't had anything since breakfast."

"OK," Brian acknowledged. "I'll figure it out."

She stared at the chicken he put back down on the counter. She tried to wrap her head around something they could make – that Benji would eat. Oven chicken strips? Faijitias? Maybe they should just order out. Or she should just put the chicken back in the fridge for tomorrow night and she should just make him a grilled cheese.

"I should call Jack," she muttered. "Bring him up to speed."

Brian found her hand against the counter and squeezed it, bringing her out of his spinning thoughts and her eyes back to him.

"Babe, there's nothing to bring him up to speed on yet, OK? He knows the appointment with the respirologist was today."

"If he even remembers …" she mumbled.

"Yea, exactly," Brian said. "So right now, if he asks how it went, we just tell him how it went."

She looked at him. "It went badly, Bri."

He shook his head at her. "We don't know how it went. We know they sent him for more tests."

"On the spot, Brian," she pressed. "A same-day CT and an immediate consult with a pediatric rheumatologist. A list of blood tests I've never even heard of before. You should've seen how many vials they took out of him, Bri. I counted fourteen. That's not normal. That's an appointment that went really badly."

He gripped at her shoulders. "We don't know anything yet. They don't know anything yet. They're doing their due diligence. That's a fucking good thing, Liv. It's about fucking time. We've been at them since last winter about why he's so rundown with all these fucking colds and sore throats all the time."

She slumped against the counter and stared at him again. Running that afternoon through her head while trying to just stop running that afternoon through her head. Trying to remember every word and every look from the doctors and nurses and technicians and every piece of information she'd been given so far.

"They're talking lupus, Brian," she muttered.

"We aren't going to know anything either way until the tests are back," he stressed again. "When they'd say they'd be back? When are they having him back in?"

"Two weeks …," she muttered. It was going to be a long, long two weeks. "You need to book it off. Change your schedule. We need to have both our ears there. Today …" she shook her head as she let it trail off.

Today she felt like she'd been hit by a truck and she knew she hadn't heard everything they'd said. As much as she was trying to remember it she felt like she'd … had to shut off. She had gone onto crisis management – but not work crisis. Family – again. And she'd had to focus so much energy onto keeping her son calm and protected from what was going on then – what might be going on now – that she felt like she hadn't received all the information she wanted or needed.

"I'm going to be there," he said. "You don't need to worry about that. I fucking wish I was there today, Liv. I'm so sorry …" And his voice drifted off and she saw the shift in his eyes too. He was teetering as well. He was working to be that protector – to try to take care of them – and she could tell he didn't know how. Right now she didn't know if she knew how either. Just be strong. Just keep being strong. That's what they all needed to do.

"I've been Dr. Googling," she admitted.

"Don't do that," Brian shook his head. "Not yet. Not tonight. OK?"

She just shook her head at him again. "I feel like I'm losing my mind here, Bri. Lupus?"

He pulled her to him. "One step at a time, babe. OK."

"It makes sense, though. What I've read. It sounds like it fits."

He shook his head. "I Googled too. OK. It said it's a great mimicker. That it's hard to diagnose. That a lot of times it's not lupus. It's … something else."

"What else, Bri? We've had him into the doctor so many times. He's been on so many antibiotics and Benadryl and cough syrups and children's Tylenol."

"You know what the cold and flu viruses going around the last couple years have been like."

"He's so small for his age," she said.

"Liv, that's—" And she knew he was going to argue that was his foundational years – and she knew there was truth in that too. She didn't need to hear it.

"He gets rashes," she said instead.

"He's a fair-skinned kid, Liv," he provided.

"Headaches."

"Maybe that's just stress with the whole school situation. Just not wanting to go to school and the little assholes there. Maybe it's sensory stuff. Getting overwhelmed. We've talked to docs about this," he weakly argued.

"All these aches and pains he complains about. How tired he gets."

"That happens when kids are growing," he tried that time. "And his sports, Liv. Muscles ache with that kind of physical intensity."

She looked at him more directly. "These never-ending swollen glands in his neck and the sore throats."

He sighed at her. He held at her. "Look, we got the testing out of the way. We're in front of people who should be able to piece this together for us. Tell us what's going on. And then we'll go from there. Figure it out."

She nodded against him – into his chest. Figure it out. They were always fucking figuring it out. And right now – their family just needed a break.

"I want to cry …," she let slip out. And she hated herself a little for it.

"We will," he whispered into her eye. "Just not right now."

She nodded against him and then pulled away. She picked up the chicken again.

"I'll make dinner," she said.

Brian's hand found hers. "I can do it," he said.

But she shook her head. And touched his cheek. "He wanted you today," she whispered. "He was crying so … so badly when we had to change him into the gown for the CT. He was just so scared. I didn't think he was going to let go of my hand so I could leave the bay. And he kept asking for you."

She saw Bri's eyes glisten at that. "I should've—"

"You couldn't," she acknowledge and kissed at the side of his chin. "But you can be with him now. Even if he is giving you – me, both of us – the cold shoulder."

He nodded. His head hanging near her shoulder for a long beat. But then he straightened and she watched him go back to the dining room and pull a chair over to sit next to Benji. He leaned in and rasped something into their little boy's ear and then wrapped his arm around him – holding him tight against his chest for a long time before letting go and pointing at the science fair project due into school that next morning.

The mundane routine. The life goes on. That they'd just have to keep moving forward with. Until they got an answer. And then after whatever answer they got.

**Thanks for reading and taking the time to post comments, feedback and reviews**.


	15. Winning Moment

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia reached and righted the back of Benji's up-turned shirt collar. He kept fidgeting with the tie he'd insisted he had to wear to school that day for the science fair. It kept skewing up the collar with his twisting motions at the knot. She's already helped him get the top button of his shirt undo when she'd arrived at the school and gone to his display to find him adjusting the knot so much he looked like he was strangling himself.

The reality was that the tightness around the neck – all buttoned up like that – wasn't something her little boy was used to. And with the tender glands in his neck, it was likely just irritating things even more. But sitting waiting for the award presentation now, it didn't seem like her undoing that button for him and telling him to loose the noose a bit had done much to stop him from fidgeting with the thing. Men and their ties. A metaphor for other things in their life.

But Benji had been so, so insistent that morning that he needed to wear a collared shirt and tie into school that day for when the projects were getting judged. He'd downright near had a meltdown about it when she was trying to find something in his closet that matched his expectations and still fit him. She thought about the last time he'd been in a collared shirt was maybe Christmas – the year before. Benji lived in henleys and hoodies – just like Jack and Brian … and Emmy. And admittedly the boys had rubbed off on her too and Olivia wouldn't lie that when she was home she pretty much stuck with jeans and sweats too).

When she was getting a little flustered with his last-minute laundry demands (which also were spurring Emmy to summit her own laundry demands about 'getting spiffy' for school, which apparently meant a sparkly, sequin flipping lama shirt that she didn't even own! – but birthday hint/demand noted) and trying to get them both to settle for a much warmer and more comfortable flannels, he'd finally told her his logic. That Jack said you had to get dressed up when you had meetings with important people. That her and Brian wore "fancy stuff" to work because Brian said "you hafta dress the part". And that these judges were "real scientists" (which she knew was really stretching it – more like high school science teachers and maybe some city workers who vaguely held some job title that might be sort of science related) and they needed to know he was "smart, and professional, Mom!"

And that had settled that. Though, she'd nearly laughed at him when he'd proclaimed that at her with such forceful urgency. She'd had to hold back a bit more of a laugh when he'd decided the few ties they had for him were "way too baby-ish! It has snowflakes on it!" and he'd insisted on picking something out of Brian's collection of atrocities (that she'd attempted to improve since they'd been together, but it hadn't really mattered because his selection nearly every day was the black, navy or green one that he never even bothered to unknot). But Benji wasn't interested in wearing the black, navy or green one – no matter how many times Brian told him that "This green one's your Ma's fav" (which also wasn't exactly a lie). Not interest.

So Brian told him, "You look spectacular in green, Big Man. Got to represent."

"Slytherin?" Benji squinted at him. "Dad, everyone hates Slytherin!"

Brian stared at him. "Irish, Ben," he said. "NYPD. Cops. St. Paddy coming up."

That just got an even more skewed up face and head shake. "This one!"

Only that one was an ugly, stripped yellow thing that Olivia was fairly certain Brian had had from twenty-plus years ago when he just as cluelessly bought attire when he first got his detective's shield. She was sure she remembered him wearing it back when he was in SVU – last millennium. Only in the years since it did somehow manage to get unknotted. So Olivia got another comedy routine of Brian first trying to figure out how to tie it around Benji's neck for him.

The backward movements and different perspective was throwing Bri for a loop. He tried repeatedly to tell Benji that the tie was too long for him (and it was – it was hanging down into his crotch. Olivia was pretty sure when it did get returned to Brian's collection it would've likely been tucked into Benji's pants at some point or outright dribbled on at the urinal). But Benji didn't care. It was what he thought a tie was supposed to look like.

Brian eventually gave up on trying to do it from the front and moved around back of Benji to try again. That also wasn't working – because Olivia suspected Brian didn't remember how to tie a tie in the first place. But she gave him the benefit of the doubt until she saw his own frustration growing.

"Bri," she squeezed his shoulder as she cleared the kids' cereal bowls from the table. "Just knot it around your neck and then …" she nodded at Benji's expectant face.

He seemed annoyed he hadn't thought of that himself but did switch up his technique. Only it didn't help much either. When she saw he'd resorted to pulling out his phone and staring at a YouTube how-to, she'd finally gone over and moved his flustered hands away – moving the fabric in swift loops and tugs.

"I'm not sure if this is sexy or humiliating," he mouthed at her.

She gave him a smile and shrugged. "Go with sexy," she said. She worked at forming and smoothing the knot with her fingers. "I like you in a tie." She patted the knot down and examined him for a moment. "Not this one," she added.

It looked even worse on Benji when Brian transferred it to their son. Dangling in a way that she was sure didn't look "smart" or "professional" but likely had made the judges smile when they'd come around to Benji's display to chat with him that afternoon. And that – and the look of such pride on their little boy's face – was all that mattered.

Though, Olivia was pretty sure he was about the most dressed-up one in the room. At least among the boys. A few of the little girls were in dresses, but she was sure that was fairly regular attire for them. The closest to the scientist look that apparently Benji was going for were some kids in dinosaur, astronaut, planets and mutant super heroes shirts as far as Olivia could see.

Brian reached behind the back of the chairs and found her hand – steadying it from her own nervous fidgeting at her son's collar. They met eyes and gave each other a little smile. As with most school events this seemed to be dragging on forever in the stuffy gymnasium. It was the second afternoon that week she'd left the precinct early – but it'd been a non-optional, can't miss it kind of thing. And at least this little (never-ending) award ceremony and time to browse all the kids' projects was at the end of the school day. Even though that wasn't the end of the work day – and it definitely didn't look like every parent had been able to make it a priority. But with the kind of week Benji was – they all were – having this was a priority for their family. Benji had placed it as very important to him – so it was important to them.

Olivia laced her fingers her Bri's – flexing them together.

She'd give that despite how hard the past few days had been – in some ways maybe it'd been exactly what Brian needed. And in turn what they needed as a couple. In other ways it hadn't been. They were both triggering a bit in their own ways and spinning out in other ways – while trying not too. But at least they were communicating. About a whole messy, host of … everything.

There hadn't been a lot of sleeping going on by either of them. There'd been a lot of talking. And a lot of Benji getting up and wanting to sleep in their bed (even though some of the nights – despite the hour they hadn't even managed to make it to bed yet, they were just sitting on the sofa and trying to wade through … so much). And if Benji left the kids' room, it was only a matter of time until Emmy showed up and crawled into bed with them too. That heap of humanity didn't do much for her and Brian's sleeping. Though, they likely weren't going to sleep well anyway. So instead they both just lay their staring at these little humans that were so theirs (even though some would argue they weren't). These little people they were responsible for.

And that had been part of the hard part of all this. This waiting for the latest of what might be going on with Benji. Answers they wanted but didn't want. They were responsible for their Little Fox and Little Duck. But there were so many ways that they just ended up feeling so helpless in their ability to help them. To protect them. The unfairness of life and existence – the pain – that seemed to keep piling onto their pile of humanity.

Brian was struggling with that right now. He'd sounded a bit like a broken record. But Olivia was sure she did too. He kept saying how he was supposed to be raising them and taking care of them. How he'd thought if he was just there – vigilant, if he saw them – they'd be able to protect them. But if this – lupus, a life of chronic illness – came to be, he'd failed. He hadn't protected Benji. He hadn't been able to. And he didn't know how.

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here, Liv," he'd said to her so many times one night on that couch – in the dark with just lights from the street peeking in. He'd said it over and over again. He kept coming back to it at the end of every exchange. That he was scared. That he felt like a failure – like he'd failed Benji and her and their family. That he felt like feeling that way made him a coward – again. That he hadn't been able to protect his little boy – even when he'd kept his eyes on him since he was four years old, every chance he had. He'd fought so hard to be able to keep his eyes on him – to protect him after everything he'd been through – and he hadn't.

And then he mouthed at her: "You're gonna tell me I'm projecting."

And she'd shook her head. "No," she allowed – even though they both knew in some ways he also was. "I feel the same way."

She did. And she learned over and over again since becoming a mother, there was so little she could really do protect her children. And she was a good mother. She knew it – even though she struggled with accepting that and believing it and feeling confidant in it too. But she knew it. Just like she knew Brian was a good dad.

So she'd learned – she kept trying to convince herself, tell herself – that it isn't about protecting them. That that's an impossible task. A fool's errand that every good parent takes on. But it's not about protecting them – if you protect them that makes you a good parent – because over-protecting them can make you a bad one. It can rob them of life. Their life. So instead – you make them a part of your life. Your family's life. You let them live their life. And you be there for them. You just be there for them – you show up – every step of the way.

And she did that. Brian did that. They were doing it. Despite their fears and their own insecurities and their trauma and scars and triggers. And work and conflicts as a couple. They showed up for these two kids. They were bound together in that. And they'd keep doing it. That afternoon for this science fair. And when they went in to get those test results. And then as they went forward dealing with whatever those results said – for Benji and for their family. They'd figure it out. Brian said that a lot.

"So, we'll figure it out." And they did. They would.

But that hadn't meant they both hadn't teetered as close to tears the two of them had ever truly let themselves get. Their eyes brimmed and glistened. Their voices cracked. Olivia had let some tears sneak out and streak down her face. And Brian who had only ever shed a tear in front of her twice let a flood escape to the point he'd excused himself – though she'd followed. And held him. They'd held each other a lot.

And she knew it wasn't just about Benjamin. It was the tremor it brought that had just cracked the walls they'd had up so long. Trickles of all these past topics that they had so long avoided or shut down just kept spurting out. And they both just kept catching them and working to bail out the boat they were in together. Bit by bit. They needed so they couldn't sink. Though, she knew it also meant both their minds – their emotions – were in a bit of a hurricane. Yet, in some ways … as awful as it felt, as scary … it also felt more intimate too.

Their touches were more than the passing peck on the cheek. Their shared looks happened more than just as one of them handed the other a coffee. They weren't just talking about the kids or when they hoped to get home that night or who had what responsibility in managing the family's schedules and their home. They were looking – seeing, trying to hear and understand and support each other more than they had. They were holding each other up. Building each other up – to get through this. And so far they weren't letting that be an excuse to bury away other topics and issues they needed to work on. Big important issues and experiences and events and personal traumas and scars and baggage. It'd been pushing them to the forefront instead. And she almost hoped it might stay that way. That this – whatever this ended up being – brought them together in some new and different way. Maybe it was what they needed in this particular moment. A distraction that was also a magnifying glass.

"Now for this year's bronze medallist," the principal up on the stage finally said.

Olivia exhaled a little sight of relief. So far they'd sat through the third grade, fourth grade and fifth grade winners. And then the winners of the physics project and the chemistry project and the earth sciences project and the biology project and the electronics project and the astronomy project and the engineering project. It was starting to feel like they might as well just give a participation ribbon to the whole school – even the kindergarteners, Grade Ones and Grade Twos who had only torn around the gym in more of a chaotic game of tag than looking at any of their upper-year classmates' displays. Olivia was actually near certain that every kid was still going to get given some sort of piece of paper to say they participated. She just hoped they didn't have to sit there while each child's name – and presumably the project's cleaver title (that most of their parents likely came up with for them) – read out before they came up to the stage to retrieve it.

She'd really rather get her kids home and start homework and dinner – so just enjoy what was left of her early-quitting-time day with them. It'd been beautiful out on the way over there. A detour to the park on the way home sounded like a much better use of her time than enduring too much more of this – or the cookies and juice and apple slices she could hear a teacher setting out on tables at the back of the gym. She could think of a better after-school snack too. Especially when a detour to the park could just as easily lead to a detour to the Farmacy. She thought they all deserved a some ice cream (dessert before dinner) that week.

So finally – FINALLY – they were getting to the overall winners of the science fair. At least she hoped that meant this award ceremony was just about over. She could tell the other parents were getting just as restless as her in the hard metal chairs. And expect for the kids who had any sort of expectation that they might still have a chance of winning – the students had long lost any real interest in this ceremony. The whispered chatter and fidgeting in the rows of chairs (causing that awful ding of metal, creaks and scrapping across the floor) had started at least 20 minutes ago. Thirty minutes was clearly too long for this little ceremony. They'd let the school board and PTA representatives spiel on for way too long. As per usual.

"This student ingeniously combined earth sciences with physics for his project," the principal said. "And, I have to say, his display showed some pretty awesome engineering too."

Olivia glanced down at Benji. He was still fidgeting but intently looking at the stage. But not like he was registering that there was even a chance that it was his project that was getting refered to up there. She looked to Brian – but he was already staring right back at her. He had the 'are you hearing this?' look of his painted across his face. She nodded.

"Twisted Physics…," the principal said and Benji's head finally bolted over to Olivia looking at her in surprised awe.

'Wow', mouthed at him. Brian scruffing at his hair. "Look who's the egg head now," he leaned in to whisper to him. Emmy was up on her feet. "Hey, dat's Bubba's paw-dect!"

"…examines the physics of vortexes using tornados and whirlpools as examples to of these turbulent twisters and spirals. And the project sure does a good job at explaining their formation and some of the questions and mysteries around them! So after the ceremony, I really encourage you to take a minute to check it out. Its scientist engineered some really cool tornado tubes and whirlpool jars to demonstrate the physics around vortexes."

Bri was squeezing at Benji's shoulder and Olivia had her hand right there over top of his. She could feel the nervous excitement just radiating through their little boy. He so needed this. He deserved this win. He'd worked so hard for weeks in doing his research and experiment and his whole scientific procedure and readying his display and accompanying binder.

"Ben-gee, dat's wha you did," Emmy kept saying, bending across Brian's knee to try to get to her brother. Brian was hushing her and rubbing her back with his other hand.

"He knows," he whispered.

"And that scientist is Fifth Grader, Benjamin Benson," the principal said and started the audience in on applauding, as she looked to find him in the crowd, giving him a smile. But Benji didn't budge. So the principal gestured for him to come. He still didn't move.

Olivia leaned forward and gave him a little nudge. "Go get your medal, Little Fox."

He gave her a nervous look and straightened his tie again. She gave him a smile and patted down the knot a bit for him as he rose and nudged by Brian and his sister. Emmy went to trot after him but Olivia held out her hand toward their daughter.

"Little Duck," she called and gestured for her to come. Emmy looked back and forth between her and her brother. "Emily," she warned. It got a huff but Emmy did come over to her, crawling right up onto the chair Benji had just been in.

"Ben-gee won a prize!" she told her. "'Cuz he da bestest!"

She wrapped her arm around Emmy to hold her tight – and to hopefully keep her butt in place so she wasn't standing on the chair and blocking anyone's view. "He's pretty great," she agreed. "Bri …" she said, turning her attention to him, planning to urge him to go out into the aisle to take some photos. But he was already headed that way. He turned her way but she just nodded that was all she wanted and he kept going.

She smiled, fixing her eyes back up on the stage. Watching their nervous, scared, timid, shy, dyslexic, smart, sick little boy go up the stairs to the principal and bend his hand as she draped the medal around his neck. He picked it up in his hands and stared at it. Only looking up as the teacher helping up on the stage came over to hand him a certificate and some kind of box that Olivia had noticed the long list of award winners were receiving. Benji started to move off stage but the principal said something to him and their Little Fox stopped as the woman pointed in the general direction where Brian was standing. He stayed there for a couple awkward seconds – that were hopefully enough for Bri get a couple decent shots (his photography skills left a lot to be desired – and yet he wondered why she opted to pay an actual photographer for family photo sessions at least once a year).

"He's soooo weird and kinda extra dodo," she heard behind her, though, as she was smiling so broadly up at the stage. "His dad likely did the whole experiment."

Her eyes moved behind her to see a mother hushing a boy that Olivia didn't recognize from Benji's class. But considering the state of the bullying situation on the playground – that likely didn't mean much. Still, she eyed the mother. She tried not to pass judgement. She knew you couldn't control a lot of things that came out of your kids' mouths – or when. And she knew she didn't know anything about this woman or her child. That this boy might be somewhere on the spectrum and have no kind of filter. He didn't think before he spoke. She knew that most families were fighting their own battles – big and small. But it still didn't stop her from wanting to snap out how much her little boy needed this win. How big this was for her Little Fox. How much pride was radiating off her son right now – and she didn't want that to come crashing down by comments like that from kids like him.

But it wasn't her who had to say something – because Emmy did. "Daddy didn't do the ex-per-ment! Bubba didn't let no one help. 'Cept me. And he only let me try it. After. 'Cuz Mama said he had to. But you can try too, dodo! His per-ment right there," she said and pointed hard behind them.

And it was Olivia's turn to pull Emmy back into her seat and give her a hush. "Bum in the chair," she hissed into her ear, holding her down and eyes front. But Emmy broke away and pushed back down at the aisle as Benji came back. She grabbed at his medal around his neck.

"Oooooh. Woooowa," she said. "It like real pie-it gold?"

"Bronze," Benji said gazing at it too, as Brian nudged both of them to keep moving back in.

"What else you get?" Emmy asked, grabbing at the box.

Benji let her take it. "I dunno," he mumbled, still transfixed by his medal. His eyes were just dancing with his pride. It was like a little bit of self-esteem had just magically inflated him – for at least this moment.

Both of her little humans plopped into the chair next to Olivia. Benji held the medal out to her.

"Look," he said so quietly, like he was still a little shocked. Like it might all be a dream.

She took it so carefully in her hand – Benji still not letting go. "That's amazing, Benji."

He gave her a big, wide – but so shy – smile.

Brian managed to sit down again and Emmy was already shoving the box at him. "Daddy, what's it? Why dare wiz-weirds?"

Brian leaned in to take a look. "It's a chemistry set," he said.

"Whoa …," Olivia provided. "Are we going to get to learn to make magic potions like in Snape's Hogwarts class?"

"Looks like it," Brian said and reached to give Benji's shoulder a squeeze. "See, Slytherin green isn't so bad. Represent."

Benji pulled his eyes from his medal and tugged at the box in his sister's hands to see better. But Emmy wasn't letting go of it.

"Ben-gee, peez, peez, peez let me help! I like cem-tree mag-ick poo-ins too. Peeeeeez!"

"Yea, you can help," he agreed and managed to get the box out of her hands at that to give it a closer examination.

Emmy grinned at Olivia. "So now I can be a wiz-weird sci-test too!"

Olivia just smiled and worked to hold back a laugh. "Oh boy …," she managed, gazing at Brian. He was smiling – that way he did – too. And she again found his hand behind the chair their two children had huddled into to look at their little victories. Letting her and Brian stare at their little – big – victories too.

"So the perfect people to be raising wiz-weirds," he punctuated as he rasped quietly at her.

And Olivia just smiled a little bit weird. "Absolutely," she agreed. They so were.

**Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated — and motivating. Thanks for taking the time.**


	16. Slumber Party

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

There was a big THUMP out in the living room and then Olivia heard Brian use his real Dad Voice.

"OK, OK. Enough, OK?" he said.

She stuck her head out the door of his mother's kitchen to take a look. She wanted to make sure the increased volume wasn't an indication he was losing his patience.

"You don't need to be tearing apart your Gramma's entire place to put down a couple sleeping bags," he told both the kids sternly.

"Yep we do, Daddy," Emmy chimed. "We need to make a sleeping nest for the sleepover."

"Doesn't need to take up the entire living room," Brian rasped right back at her.

Olivia smiled a little, as his mother peeked around her to see what was going on too.

Brian had her coffee table griped in his hands and near clutched to his chest in the midst of trying to find somewhere else to put it in the small, cluttered and over-furnished space as Emmy and Benji crawled around at his feet. They were working on spreading on their sleeping bags while simultaneously pushing back – and away – every other piece of furniture as far as they could. So that had meant pretty much to the walls. From the 'oops' look that Benji was giving his dad, he'd done just that. And it'd been what created the THUMP that had prompted Bri's raised voice. He was standing over the armchair, head tilted, presumably examining a scuff Benji had managed to create in the paint.

"Brian, it's fine," Janet said dismissively and then more directly. "Aren't you supposed to have a dinner reservation? Hurry it up in there."

"Yea, I'm trying, Ma," he muttered. He was still giving Benji real Dad eye.

"Sorry," their Little Fox offered.

"So stop going at things like you're some goon on the ice rink," Brian told him. "This is your Gramma's house – not slap shot. OK?"

Benji gave him a little nod.

Olivia shook her head and nudged back into the kitchen to watch Janet chopping at the pineapple and dicing up already sliced ham (and the red onion, mushrooms and green peppers that Olivia knew the kids likely wouldn't eat on their homemade pizza that night, but maybe Janet much preferred that to Hawaiian and plain cheese that would be about the only kind of pizza her kids would ingest). She'd already offered to help with the prep work or at least shed the cheese. But Janet had brushed her off, saying she didn't want to be smelling like any of that when she was going out to a nice dinner.

"What time is your reservation?" Janet pressed at her.

Olivia held up a hand in a little dismissive wave of her own. "It's actually not until 9:15. So we've got lots of time. We're running some B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y errands before our seating." She glanced into the living room again to make sure Emmy was still distracted with making her nest. She knew she was only going to be using the spelled word method for so much longer. Emmy's reading and spelling vocabulary seemed to be growing and growing weekly – just like their little girl.

"Well, I do think you're a little overdressed to be doing that," Janet said.

Olivia offered her a little smile and smoothed down her dress a bit. It wasn't often that she had real reason – or an excuse – to get dressed up like this anymore. Not when she was usually trailing after two active kids and half the time dragging their sports gear along with her so she could sit on the sidelines of a soccer or football field or hockey rink. Or readying herself to help with a craft project and science experiment that enviably was going to spilled all over something – and she'd be the one trying to clean it up. And little sticky, slimy, paint-covered hands were likely going to be coming at her for show-and-tell or hugs. Those events weren't the kind of things you wanted to be wearing a dress to. And it had been quite a while since her and Brian had been anywhere that prompted her to both spending the time in the bathroom and bedroom putting herself together in quite the way she did that evening. But sometimes it was nice to have some moments – someone – making her feel like a woman, and not just a cop or just a mom.

"You look lovely," Janet offered her.

And Olivia looked down and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear to hide just how uncomfortable she was taking those kinds of compliments. Though, she'd already gotten similar from both of her children and Brian. Not quite those words. But in their own ways.

"Thank you," she acknowledged. "But, really, if the kid's aren't behaving or settling or Benji's not feeling, just call. We'll come get them."

"Oh, please," Janet said as she chopped, giving her a glance. "I think I can handle my grandbabies for one night. With the two of you all dressed up like that I'm sure you had other plans for the evening that you don't need the two of them around for."

"Ahh …," Olivia managed to gape and again looked to the floor with a little head shake.

She wasn't about to argue that point – but she also wasn't about to agree with Brian's mother that it'd more than crossed her mind that they were going to have the house to themselves for a night for the first time in … months. Since the summer, at least. Just like it'd occurred to her how nice that would be – and how to use that time. And how that might've influenced the amount of time she put into the beauty and dressing routine she had going on in the bathroom that evening after work before bringing the kids over here.

But it would be nice for her and Brian to have that alone time – and quiet time. Without the worry of interruption. Without watching the clock for their kids' witching hours. Or straining their ears at any little noise. The holding of breaths and choking about every little sound and restraining their movements so as not to be the ones creating the noise that might prompt an extra witching hour and their interruption.

Because things had been … wild and confusing and intense lately between them. They were working a slowly re-exploring their sexual relationship – their sexuality and intimacy. Their needs from each other and their boundaries – with new eyes, better understanding and slowly crumbling walls. To say it'd been … interesting … would likely be an understatement.

In some ways Olivia felt like they were … young again. Like the relationship was new. There was a lot of relearning. There was a lot of learning to explore each other's bodies again – in a different way. There was a lot of re-education about what the other liked – and didn't – and why. And discovering whole new ways – new things, locations, positions, touches – that they liked too.

It'd been an interesting re-education. This reacquainting herself with her body and just realizing there were things she hadn't known about her body. Working at coming to some acceptance about the ways her experience with Lewis had shifted her perspective about her body and sex – and the kind of sex (and her ability to enjoy it) with Brian. Even though they'd rebuilt that – or tried – again after all that. But they were doing it again now. For him. In a different way.

It'd been hard. Parts had been scary. There was a vulnerability for both of them in different ways – but similar ways. There'd been times it just hadn't worked at all. That she'd had to stop. Or he'd had to stop. Or she'd had to tell him he needed to stop – for himself – because she could feel his frustration and anxiety and hopeless attempts to exert a type of machoism that just wasn't Brian but that he'd (now) so clearly trained himself to project.

But it'd also been fun – and surprising too. Brian had found different spots – new ways of touching her, simulating her – that she hadn't known she liked or wanted. And now she was finding herself moving his hands and fingers and lips and tongue back to those spots.

Now a fifty-year-old woman – and she was just learning these new things about herself and her likes and her needs and her body. It was a strange sensation. Stranger still in the realization that she was doing it with Brian Cassidy. Strange in the realization who he'd become in her life and the important role he played. How they'd both carried each other through … hard, awful times. How despite who they were – or in spite of it – they were there for each other. And now it was him she was sharing these slow healing experiences for the both of them with. Him who she was growing with. Him who, in some ways, who had helped her grow too.

She tried not to dwell on the person she was in the past – or the person she'd perceived him to be. She tried not to think too much about that moment that she'd treated as a one night stand when she knew he'd wanted it so much more badly than her and had wanted so much more than her. She tried not to think about how she'd been to him then. Or what that might've done to him or how it influenced him as a man – and the kinds of relationships he had – after it.

Olivia, instead, tried to focus on what and who they were to each other now. She tried to think about how far their relationship had come over the years. How much they'd both changed and grown as individuals. Who they were now. And how hard they were working for each other – and their selves and their family – right now. They'd both put in the effort these past weeks. They'd grown and changed again in these past six weeks or so.

It wasn't just her. It was the same with him. She could see and feel Brian working at himself and their relationship and coping with their sexuality and his trauma. Him trying so hard to move beyond it and to experience things he'd cut himself off from for his entire adult life. He was letting her touch him more. It was like that now that she knew – he'd just stopped moving her hands away from places he had before. Some nights it didn't work. He struggled. He couldn't handle it or wasn't read. But then they'd stopped.

There'd been a lot of that too. But there'd also just been a lot of love. So much of their sex life had been wrapped up in penetration and orgasm before. And deconstruction their pasts she could see way – understand way. For different reasons, but again, similar ones. Traumatic experiences. Fears and baggage. Boundaries and out limits part of their bodies and their lives. They'd become practiced in the efficiency in taking care of needs rather than … letting themselves enjoy the sex or each other. Maybe that'd been too confusing of concept for them. Too much vulnerability wrapped up in that.

But these past couple months … it was different. They were working on just being intimate. They'd kissed and kissed – all over. Explored. With lips and mouths and hands and fingers. There'd been so much touching, caressing. Sensuality to it all. A reminder of how the orgasm didn't always matter. And the penetration (at least from her female perspective) at times really barely registered as entirely necessary (even, though, Brian definitely knew what to do with what he had, despite his hang-ups and the rules and regulations she'd placed on him too).

They'd had full sessions – wonderful nights – where there hadn't been orgasm or penetration for either of them. But she fell asleep in his arms and woke up next to him feeling close to Brian in a whole new way. They were getting each other off in an entirely different way. And she really wouldn't mind a night where they could continue to explore and work on all that for as long as they wanted, as loud as they wanted and as many times as they wanted.

"Are you going somewhere special?" Janet gave her an out from her blushing.

"Khao," Olivia offered. Janet gave her a look that said she had no idea what that was – and Olivia shouldn't have expected her to. She tucked her hair behind her ear again a little self-consciously. "It's a pan-Southeast Asian cuisine," she said.

"Oh," Janet nodded. "Brian loves Asian food. Chinese."

Olivia offered a smile. This wasn't Chinese the way she was thinking.

"It's still pretty new," she said. "It's supposed to be Thai and Filipino influences in the dishes. It's really hard to get a reservation. But Brian managed to get one … and for the chef's tasting menu."

"That sounds like a special evening then," Janet gave her a smile.

Olivia nodded and tucked at her hair again – even though she didn't really need to. "It is," she agreed.

The reality was it was special on a lot of levels. The first of which being that Brian had broken his routine and she knew that right now – even though he was working at it – it involved a lot of effort for him. He was finding comfort and stability in having their family routine and structure. Leaving the kids with his mom on a Friday night – and going back into the city, on a date to a restaurant they'd never been to before – that was a big deviation from their routine.

But then there was also the fact that a chef's menu? And anything trendy? With cuisine labeled "pan" anything, "infused" anything or "influenced" anything? And then the price tag that grew when any of those words started getting added to the menu descriptions? That was not something that Brian would normally agree to. The only saving grace that he likely clung to in taking this leap was that "Thai" was included in the restaurant description. Brian and Benji would live off Thai noodles dishes if they were given the chance. But she doubted that Brian could come up with any dish that was Filipino. Though, she'd likely have to think about it too.

And then finally, she knew how hard it was to get a reservation at this place. She had wanted to try it – for ages. And she'd called and watched OpenTable for reservations for a while. But it became clear that while there was all this buzz around the venue, it just wasn't going to happen. Not to mention she knew it was likely way too trendy for Brian to agree to go. He would've put up a fuss about the food and the price and going back into Manhattan when he just wanted to sit on his ass at home in front of the TV and about asking Jack or his mom to watch the kids. So she just stopped looking and she hadn't mentioned anything about her hope to get to try the chef's plates at some point for ages. But then two nights ago Brian told her they were going out – and where.

She'd been more than a little surprised. It communicated that even when they'd been in that extended rough patch, he'd actually been listening when she talked. And he heard her. That he was willing to do something for her – because she wanted to do it – even if it wasn't really his thing. And she knew he must've been looking at OpenTable near constantly to find an open spot. Though, he claimed otherwise. He said he just 'asked around'. And when she asked for how long he'd been doing that all she'd gotten was, 'a while'.

The gesture – it counted for a lot. For both of them. For their relationship. He was trying. They were trying.

"We're actually thinking about trying to make this at least a monthly thing," Olivia told Janet. "A 'date night'."

Janet gave her another little smile. "I like that idea," she said. "I like any idea that means I get to steal some extra time with my grandkids."

Olivia nodded. "I'm sure Jack can help too …"

Janet made another dismissive gesture with the knife. "Tell him to book his own night. You'll have to go on at least two date nights a month. I'm not sharing mine."

Olivia smiled. Brian's mom had been … so supportive of them making a family together. And even though Olivia had resisted at the start, she saw how much they needed that help and support. How much it enriched the kids' lives – having a grandmother. Having a family that mirrored that of … what society still perceived a family as looking like. They might not have all the blood ties to go with it – but they sure had all the titles attached to the people filling those various roles. And Olivia knew Janet just relished in it. She'd waited – worried – for a long time for her son to find someone and to settle down. And she was just … overjoyed she got to see it and be part of it.

"I am glad, though," Janet told her more sincerely. "I have been worrying about you all. Him," she gazed into the living room again.

Now Brian was working at trying to get Netflix up on the screen – and muttering at the remote and about what his mother had done to the settings that time while briefing the kids they might just have to watch a DVD that night (which was turning into a near pre-historic concept for their kids even if they still had a Blu-Ray player at home).

"I haven't wanted to pry …" Janet added and glanced at her.

Olivia managed a little shrug. She didn't want to get into it. She felt that the responsibility there – for the aspects of it that might be Janet's business – lay with Brian. "We had some hiccups. But we're working through them."

"Ma, where'd you put your wireless router?" Brian called from the living room.

"My what?" Janet called back.

"The thing for the internet. The modem, router. Your TV's not picking up the wifi signal."

"Oh, I cancelled the internet," Janet called.

"You what?" Brian said in shocked and then muttered something that Olivia was pretty sure it was best they couldn't make out.

"What do I need to be paying that bill for?" she called back.

"I don't know, Ma," Brian grumbled. "So you're living in the 21st century."

Janet shook her head and looked back to Olivia with a raised eyebrow. It was now clear Brian was telling the kids that a Netflix movie marathon wasn't going to happen that night and they'd have to settle for whatever was on cable – if Gramma hadn't cancelled that too – or whatever DVD or VHS tapes she had kicking around the place still. That collection of words was causing some confused whining.

"He seems so much calmer and happier these past couple weeks again," Janet said and despite her clear momentary annoyance, stared in at her adult son in a way Olivia knew she'd likely always be looking at – worrying after – her own children. She already did it with Jack too. "He looks healthier too. He cleans up nice, doesn't he?"

She smiled a little more at that and cocked her head with another shrug. Brian did look rather trimmed out and handsome now that he'd started shaving again and with dressing up while dressing down in his black v-necked tshirt and blazer. Again, Brian Cassidy might not have been the type of man she'd thought she'd end up with and settle down with. But he'd more than grown on her – including his looks. They had chemistry. She knew it. She'd felt her own little butterflies when he'd come down from the bedroom dressed like that – and smelling the way he did that night. He smelled great. He looked great.

Brian actually was attractive enough that evening it'd also crossed her mind that they could really put off stopping into her favorite toy store and book store in Manhattan to pick out Emmy's birthday gifts – and should instead use the few hours until their reservation to go home, get undressed and then eventually work at getting dressed again. But she'd been forcing herself to just try to enjoy all the levels of anticipation that evening potentially had and not to rush things along or miss out on other opportunities to spend time together – even if it was running kid-related errands. Often they didn't get to do that kind of stuff together either. So in its own way it was a bit of a treat.

"Brian mentioned you two are thinking of heading down to Florida for a visit with their other grandparents? Around their Easter Break?"

Olivia gave her a mildly surprised look.

"Oh …," Janet sputtered. "I didn't mean to—"

Olivia shook her head. "Ah, no," she managed. "We've talked about it a few times but I got the sense he'd prefer to hold off on that until … it was a little more planned and budgeted for."

"Brian," Janet stated flatly. "Sorry. I tried my best."

Olivia smiled a bit at that. "You did a good job," she assured but rubbed at her eyebrow. "And he has a point. It's a bigger trip. It shouldn't likely be something we try to organize so last minute."

"Mmm …," Janet acknowledged. "Only Brian and planning? Loves knowing the schedule but he sure isn't going to be the one who gets it all planned and sorted."

"He's getting better," Olivia provided with a thin smile. "We talked a stay-cation instead, take a couple days off during the kids' spring break and do something in the city or nearby. Maybe a long-weekend in Boston. The aquarium there is supposed to be … a lot better than ours."

"Well, if anyone deserves a bit of a vacation, it's the four of you," Janet nodded at her. "Especially Benjamin." She gave her head a little shake.

Olivia frowned a bit. But she knew there was truth to it. This school year was proving a bit of a rollercoaster for Benji – and 2019 definitely wasn't off to the best start nor did it bode too well for his future. Though, at least they were starting to get some clarity on what that future might look like. As much as the future ever looks the way you expect.

Janet reached and shook the one bottle of medication. "So these ones are supper?"

Olivia nodded and pointed at the pillbox. "And those ones are just before bed. Or around 8, since I suspect they aren't going to want to be shutting their eyes at 8 p.m. for you."

Janet smiled and picked up the bottle to look at again. "Is this one before he eats or after his pizza?"

"The doctor said to get him to take it after his first three bites," Olivia said.

Janet nodded again and stared into the living room again. Brian and the kids were gazing at the few videos that Janet had pilled on a shelf under the TV – likely trying to pick out one or two that might be appropriate in the hopes they'd fall asleep early.

"Do you think they're helping?" Janet asked.

Olivia let out a slow exhale and gazed in at her family again. But she nodded. "We've seen a little bit of change in him. But we're only ten days in and the rheumatologist said it will be more like three months before the drugs really kick in the way they're supposed to."

"But if you think they're helping, are these IVs still going to be necessary? It just seems like so much for a little boy."

"Ah …," Olivia frowned and gazed down again for a beat before finding her eyes. But she nodded again. "The doctor feels we should do this round of the immunosuppressants to start and then … we'll see. Usually it's a once a month thing for about six months. To two years. Is the way it was explained to us."

"Then what about all this medication?" Janet asked. "If they're going to have him going into the hospital so much, why all this?"

"Ah …," Olivia allowed again. "These are likely for life. They're … standard for lupus to … improve some of his symptoms and to … hopefully keep the disease from involving any other organs." And her voice wavered a bit and she again looked down. "But it's likely the steroid injection that got him around that first corner more than this medication," she gestured at the too many pills for anyone – let alone a ten-year-old. "These will just …They doctor said it takes about three months of the treatment for the effects … benefits … of these to start kicking in."

And she didn't know what more to say. Manage his symptoms and pain. Manage the disease. Maybe help reserve or stall some of it?

It was more complicated than that. So much more. And she didn't even understand it all. She was still learning. She was still processing and finding her footing and learning to live in this new reality that had been layered onto them when they were already trying to cope with other new realities in their already complicated realities.

So it wasn't a conversation she wanted to have that evening. Her and Brian were in a good mood. They were happy and calm. So were the kids – sort of. They were excited for their night with Gramma. She just wanted them all to stay in the moment.

They all just needed to live in the moment. That moment – they could handle. A moment at a time.

**I'd really appreciate if readers reviewed sometimes. I've had several chapters that haven't even gotten one comment or feedback.**


	17. Having Fun

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

"Where you going?" Olivia asked, her eyes still closed as she felt Brian shift underneath her and try to gently slide away from her without waking her.

But Olivia wasn't even really sure she had been asleep. She might've drowsed off a bit but it'd been a light sleep. That had pretty much whole the entire evening had gone. Rest periods but she didn't think either of them had really slept. She wasn't sure what time it was. The last time she'd noticed the clock on the nightstand it was getting close to 4 a.m. She wasn't sure how long they'd settled into their latest rebound period. Drifting off a bit in the quiet and the dark. She thought it might've been a while since Brian was stirring. But she also wasn't sure she was ready for their night – and alone time – to end. She hoped it wasn't quite that time of morning yet.

Giving up on his efforts to not wake her, she felt him move a bit more purposely out from under her and she shifted away from him herself to give him the space – settling into the warm spot he'd left on the mattress. And the sent of him engulfing her. Really – at that point – it was very much the scent of them. When she did get up and back to reality one of the first things she was going to have to do was stripe the bed, change the sheets and crack the window to air out the room from that scent of them and their evening.

"Need to take a leak," he raspy morning voice crackled. "Goin' to clean up a bit. Rehydrate."

"Mmm …," she acknowledged, keeping her eyes shut. She could feel him sitting on the edge of the bed and knew he'd be scrubbing at his eyes like he always did in the morning. That and his words likely meant they were done – he was done. That the sun was starting to come up and it was time to get back to their routine or something like it.

"You want anything?" Brian put to her. She felt his warm breath near her forehead as he said it and then his lips planting there for a long instant.

"Mmm …," was all she managed again.

"OK," he said and gave her hair a stroke before he rose. "Go back to sleep."

"Mmm …"

But she did manage to open her eyes enough to squint through the pre-dawn light and watch his silhouetted form. He stood gazing around at the floor. She assumed he was likely looking for his briefs but apparently decided to leave that search until he felt he could turn the lights on. Olivia was pretty sure they were likely tangled up somewhere in the sheets at the foot of the bed anyway. He instead padded into the walk-in closet and she heard the one drawer in there open and he came back out with some clothing clutched in his hand, as he moved into the bathroom.

She then didn't need to wait for him to finish with his 'leak' – in the house with walls that weren't nearly as soundproof as she might like – to know that his 'clean up' that time was going to be a full shower and that he was done for the evening – or morning.

But that was pretty standard Brian. She should be happy that he stayed put in bed for as long as he did after their love making and play. That he wasn't up and cleaning up between every bit of intimacy they'd gotten in that slow evening where time seemed to almost stop for at least a few hours. Because usually Brian would almost be up and headed to the bathroom to clean up almost immediately. He usually beat her to the punch. And she'd missed that red flag too. She hadn't thought too much of it. When maybe she should've. When maybe it should've registered more after Lewis and they were both nearly competing for whole could get to the bathroom and wash what they'd done off them faster. When her definition and perspective of sex and sexual play had changed. But she'd also changed and she'd been too blinded by her own trauma then to register that Brian might be running for the shower for similar reasons.

It was is own trauma and not his just aversion to "stickiness, filmy, dried-on caked feeling". It was a believable enough explanation – Brian was always compulsive about washing his hands after Play-Doh or slime-making activities. Or pretty much … anything that he deemed "sticky" or "caked-on". And, it'd been enough of a one-time explanation in relation to their sex life to make her stop making comments about it – because she really didn't want to hear that as much as he seemed to like getting inside her, he felt her natural lubricants were … pretty much kind of gross after it was said and done and he wasn't inside her anymore.

Still, she'd kind of wished they could hold onto that night a little longer. That time had slowed down a little more. It'd been nice. Just to be with him and talk to him and banter with him. To feel more like a couple. To be doing things together.

Even if it was nattering about whether to get more Lego for Emmy for her birthday – or if it was worth paying extra for Unikitty Lego when it wasn't that different from just buying a bin of random blocks that came at a much cheaper price tag but lacked the cartoon brick character on the packaging. About how much they hated all these collector toys and "blind bags" and pieces of plastic junk. About how much toys had changed since they were kids and how they got reminded of that every Christmas and birthday.

Even if it was about if they were being fair as parents by not really buying their kids "toys" in the traditional sense. They bought their kids science kits and art supplies and puzzles and books and building blocks and games and sports equipment and model cars and airplanes. About as close as they got to "toys" was Hot Wheels, Legos and the occasional much coveted action figure. Though, those items had traditionally be reserved for Santa once a year. And any other "toy" buying was left to their siblings. They knew Benji would likely pick out a toy for Emmy. Though, with Jack it could be a whole spectrum of things but it was inevitably a hit - likely just because their big, big brother picked it so no matter what it was ranked as cool and grown up and all-round awesome. And with the party - non-party, as Brian kept on saying - even though they'd said no gifts, they knew Emmy would just as inevitably end up with a pile of presents to open from the adults in her life. Though, hopefully the adults in their life and extended family hated today's "toys" just as much as her and Brian did.

Even if it was reflecting on their little girl – the little baby they'd raised together – was already turning six. And just how mind-boggling that was. How fast that time had disappeared. How Benji was in his double-digits and headed to middle school. How having an older brother had made Emily grow up faster too and how that meant the Little Tykes Science Laboratory play table that Olivia was staring at longingly was something that both their kids had outgrown. And how strange that was and sad that was.

Even if it was talking through their decision to not sign up Benji for the spring session of hockey. Even though they knew he'd be disappointed and frustrated. But how they just didn't think he was up to it right now and how they didn't want to push it until they saw how he did on his medication and they had time to get use to his new needs and schedule. To see how he felt after these immunosuppressant IV therapies. Though, that was about as far as they specifically waded into lupus and his diagnosis and his treatment that night - because they'd decided not to. Not that night. They'd already spent enough sleepless nights going over and over it and would have many more in the future.

Even if it was working out if it'd make more sense to just give up on the kids having their own rooms right now and to put the beds together as bunks. To move the futon into Emmy's room and to reclaim that space as more than their little girl's extra large walk-in closet and zoo for their kids' mountain of stuffed animals. Even though they also knew that they likely had less than two years left before Benji officially wanted his own room and space and privacy. Less than two years before it'd be too inappropriate for the kids to be sharing a room – even though so many kids had to share rooms their entire childhood growing up in New York. But the kids still wanted to be around each other right now. And they both still needed each other. And maybe they should enjoy that and encourage it and let them have that – especially right now with the ways their family's routine and reality were spinning out.

Even if some of it was trying to figure out what they wanted to do for Spring Break. They talked about the feasibility of either of them getting any time off. If it was worth it to just go to a museum or park or event in the city that was going to be overrun with the entire public school system and any parents who managed to get a day or afternoon off but hadn't had the time or money to leave the city either.

Even if it was the going back-and-forth about them for once actually booking their furlough in a block rather than taking a few days here or there and banking a whole lot more. And Brian stressed again how much he'd like to get a beach house for a couple weeks in the summer – if she thought she could handle it. And she wasn't really sure she could. Not on Long Island. So he'd suggested a cabin upstate or out of state. On a lake. And she'd known once again he missed his cabin he'd built. And so did she - because she knew as much as she hated it, the Benji loved it and they kids would've had so many memories there growing up. If they'd ever actually found - or made - the time to get up there on a regular basis.

Olivia told him how part of her interest in going to Florida right now was just how weird it was their kids were both so into all things ocean and all things water and all things swimming and all things science. And the ocean and dolphins and manatees and sharks and fishing and sponges and beaches – the kids would love that. And they went back-and-forth some more on if doing that kind of trip last minute would even be realistic. So she instead shifted to how much she'd like to take the kids whale watching. Though, Brian pointed out that'd likely be ridiculously cold – and lacking in whales – if they attempted it at the end of April. Maybe in the summer. Maybe in their own harbor. Maybe they could just go out to the Rockaways. And how nice that sounded right now – the beaches they did have so close to home – and just how close they were to spring now. And how it was finally starting to feel like it.

They talked about Brian's want to see if the PBA or Lieutenant's Association had any ticket codes to snag some cheap seats to the Rangers or the Knicks since they were both doing so badly and the season was winding down. That he wouldn't mind going to see the Islanders – since they'd always been 'his team' – but he thought their season had been decent enough that the seats would still cost more than he wanted to pay. And he just wasn't a Nets fan and definitely wasn't willing to pay play-off clinched prices. But that he was definitely looking forward to having his ass planted on the couch with Benji the next while for March Madness. And that they should pick up some beer for the fridge for just that.

They argued about how much to spend on Easter or what to put in the kids' eggs for their little family egg hunt that Brian claimed he hated but he seemed to get a bigger kick out of hiding the eggs and waiting for the kids to spot them than she did – because he always picked harder places that they'd come across later in the day or even days later and be thrilled with the discovery of an extra piece of chocolate.

They discussed Brian not wanting to do baskets that year – because he thought he'd like to invest in a basketball net for the kids instead. He speculated on how much it'd piss off their neighbors if they put a basketball net in the garden. Olivia suspected a lot. Because they'd already gotten complaints about how much Benji and Emmy were out there – 'making noise' with their playing and the net and street hockey set and soccer balls they already had going in the cramped space. How two small children classified as "noise" in New York City boggled her mind a bit. But she had to remind herself they were living in the tree-lined refuge of Carroll Gardens now where sometimes how quiet it actually was was what kept her up at night. And she knew that Benji would easily spend hours out there shooting hoops – and that Brian was just as likely to on evenings where he needed to distract himself. And she knew there were going to be lots of those in the coming days and weeks and months. And, besides, walking to the park's basketball courts made them all leave the house, which wasn't a bad thing.

They talked about schools and bullying. About where they hoped Benji got accepted for middle school. And if they should seriously consider looking into an alternative school for Emmy that might have some more enriched programming. And what that might do to Benji's self-worth and self-esteem now too as he not only coped with a learning disability but an illness that would have him missing school more than most kids.

They talked about homework. And how Benji had too much and how to get through any of it and strategies they'd been trying with his dyslexia. How all of that might be further affected – just keeping him up with his schoolwork and motivated – now that he was 'sick'. They knew they now needed to look more into the services both the school and the board and the hospital would be obligated to provide so their son was receiving an education.

They talked about the Harry Potter series they were picking through slowly at bedtime – and the voices and passages they'd each been assigned. And how Emmy was starting to read ahead of them on the page when they were all collapsed into futon together for storytime. And how she wanted to start trying to sound out and read sentences too – and how to handle that.

They went over how Olivia wanted to start in on the Percy Jackson novels – and all the other mythologies - with the kids next. And whether the musical was something they might be willing to spend money on and endure. Or if they should watch the movies first. And just how long it'd been since they'd been to the MET as a family – and how much Brian really hated going to that museum – nearly as much as MoMA or the Guggenheim. Though, he'd found fatherhood forcibly settle him into going to the children's museum, the Science Museum and the Natural History museum at least annually.

They talked about some of the movies they both wanted to see. And some of the ones coming up that they knew the kids would want to see. They debated if Emmy would be too scared by the Harry Potter movies. If she was really old enough to be going to see Captain Marvel in the theaters. And if Tim Burton's version of Dumbo would be as creepy as the animated one. But how that might be the next flick they were willing to shell out cash for – because it was something her and Brian both actually agreed they'd be interested in seeing, even if it was for different reasons.

They ran down the summer camp lottery list. And their chances of them getting their kids into the programming they wanted. And they speculated on Jack and how he was doing and what he'd be doing that summer when he was finally done his initial Masters. When he'd get notice on if he'd been accepted into his next programmed. And if by some miracle someone would offer him a job now so he could end his academic career for a while and start bringing in some money.

Brian said he should make some time just for Jack – if he wanted it. And Olivia knew she should too – but it still seemed like he didn't want one-on-one time with her lately and when he did it was always inconvenient and unreasonable times – morning coffees or mid-day lunches. But she was going to have to make the time or he was going to stop asking. She knew that. And it'd been too long. And she wanted to know more about this girlfriend she wasn't supposed to know about – but knew about. Even though Brian told her she shouldn't interrogate him about it – that he'd tell her when he was ready. Or maybe it'd be over before it was even a thing.

She said she still hated knowing that Jack had been willing to tell Brian something – even vaguely – before he'd been willing to let her in. Not that he'd told Brian much of anything. Or at least not anything he'd passed along beyond: "He's seeing someone. Just give him some space to enjoy that while it's new and try to figure out what it is or isn't."

They talked about her Oreo and Aspirin move at work that week that she likely shouldn't have done. But her reasons why. And he talked about his annoyance with certain ADAs and detectives in certain units in certain precincts and the kind of files they handed him expecting to be able to make a case – or an example – in court. How sometimes he felt like he was dealing with more lazy-ass, dog cops as an Investigator than he ever did in IA.

They talked. They walked. And she'd worn the wrong shoes – it'd been so long since she'd been out in the evening and dressed up in Manhattan at this time of year she'd made a poor choice. They'd gone in a few stores. They'd searched hopelessly for anything resembling narwhal party products – with the closest options they could find being unicorns or mermaids or dolphins. Brian suggested they buy a cake plate set of each and tell Emmy it was an art project for her to piece together a narwhal. And he made her smile. He made her laugh. And he held her hand.

And then they'd had dinner. This beautiful, colorful, trendy restaurant that Brian still wasn't giving away how he managed to get a reservation.

Olivia had been a little concerned when they arrived and she saw how packed the place was and how tightly wedged it the tables looked. She thought their peaceful, calm night of conversation might halt. But the hostess had taken them to a smaller, quieter room with just a select group of tables for the tasting menu.

Olivia had leaned into Brian and said, "You're still not going to tell me how you managed to get one of eight chef's tables for the tasting menu on short notice on a Friday night?"

"It might open you up to IA scrutiny," he deadpanned at her. She wasn't sure if he was being serious or not.

Just like she also wasn't sure who she was with when their server had asked if they'd like drink pairing with their service as well. Olivia had still been transfixed on the listing and explanation on the tasting menu they'd been handed – and she hadn't expected to add the drink pairing as well with each of the plates. But Brian had just handed the server the list – having only looked at it long enough to comment on the "pork jowls" and "pork head" listed as two separate dishes – and he'd just told the young man serving them, "Sure. Let's do that."

It'd gotten a nod and 'very good' as the server had taken both their listings gotten retrieved and he went off. And Olivia just stared at Brian. He gave her a look.

"Sorry? Were you lookin' at something specific or something?"

"No," she said. "I'm looking at you and wondering who you are and what happened to Brian Cassidy."

He sipped at his water. "What? I didn't recognize half the stuff on their booze list. You just want to get a red or a Thai cocktail or something?"

"Did you recognize the price?" she nodded at him and then leaned forward a bit and lowered her voice. "Bri, the drink pairing is almost as much as our meal."

He shrugged. "So let's assume at that price, they know what they're doing and we're doing it right. Full experience."

Olivia sat back in her chair and gaped at him a bit. "Wow. OK. Maybe you need to be cut off before you even start."

But he'd just found her hand on the table and stroked his thumb over the top of it. "Like you said, been a while since we've done much for ourselves. Us. So – let's just enjoy it."

And they had. That was actually likely an understatement.

Brian had seemed a little awkward at first – this wasn't the kind of setting he thrived in. And he'd never been to a chef's tasting before. Olivia had – but it'd been a long, loooooooooong time. Bri didn't seem too sure about the server – or how to interact with him - coming over and describing the each plate. And, even though he must've suspected it, he'd initially had a comment about how little food was on such a big plate when their first course was brought out.

But after they did start tasting the food – it was a different story. About the only comments coming out of either of their mouths were, "Oh, my God" and "You have to try this." They definitely weren't oozing class over in their little corner of the room. She was pretty sure some of the vocalizations they were making weren't that dissimilar to what they'd let out in their own bedroom after they'd managed to roll and stumble home – three hours after being seated and stuffed full of seven courses of food, multiple glasses of wine, some tastes of international beer, young coconut water that was literally served to them in a husked coconut, spiced lemongrass tea, and a spiked Vietnamese coffee that had her convinced she'd be looking to change her usual coffee stop on the way into the precinct to find something that remotely resembled the taste of that was served with their dessert.

She couldn't decide what the highlight was. The most showy dish had likely been the large plating of the one main course when they'd brought out a whole fried fish with curry and Thai basil. But the Hainanese duck with the duck face rice and ginger sauce had been incredible. The pork belly abodo? That'd been when Brian had conceded, "OK, we've got to come here again when we can get a whole portion of this." And for his comments pre-meal about the "Pork jowl and Brussels sprouts"? That'd clearly been his favorite taste of the evening. And that wasn't even getting into the unreal – so unusual to their palates – salads or the banana fritter and salted caramel ice cream dessert that Olivia hadn't known where they were supposed to put. But after giving it an obligatory taste, they'd both done a good job at finding room for it.

But maybe the food wasn't the highlight. Maybe it was just the time with him. Maybe it was feeling like they were actually on a date and a couple and talking. That he took care of the bill without letting her see tit and without making any comment about how much it cost. It was him actually looking at her across the table – and giving her those smile, thin smiles of his. Getting the little amused sounds of him here and there with some of her own commentary about work and coworkers and the kids and their little idioms. It was him touching her hand and his feet finding hers under the table and her letting her foot drift a little up his leg and he hadn't moved away. It was catching up and getting each other's stance on a host of topics that so often got rushed through. It was the change of the routine. And Bri's willingness to try – to make the change. It was feeling seen and like she was wanted and like a woman – his romantic partner and significant other and not just someone he was stuck raising children with and managing household bills with.

Or maybe it was that feeling of like they were finding their simpatico again. The feeling of him holding her hand as they were leaving. And the way he held her close against the cold while they waited for their Uber (that he'd again ordered himself) to arrive. The way if felt when he'd actually leaned in for a kiss – in public, which … it'd been a long time. And how he said so directly, "We're going to have to do this again. I had fun." And Brian didn't use that word – 'fun' – lightly or often. For as much flak as people gave him – he was the job and he was a hard worker and work-focused. He valued his downtime and his personal time and his family time – and he liked having a good time. But for him to honestly say that something was 'fun' – that he'd had 'fun' – that was a big thing coming from him. A whole lot of boxes had to be ticked off for him to use that word.

So they'd continued having fun when they got home. It really was just continued together time. But she knew they'd both enjoyed it. She knew that time had slowed down for both of them and just sort of disappeared in that dark of the night and the room, which was probably why she didn't want it to be over. She didn't like that pre-dawn light staring to peek into the room.

It was likely why too that she still lay in bed – breathing in the smell and feeling the sheets and just resting her eyes – long after she heard the shower stop and Brian hadn't returned. But she eventually pulled herself out of bed and pulled on some panties and a tank before wrapping her rob around herself and following him downstairs.

He was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter next to the perking coffee maker in just his briefs and a Transformers tshirt that Benji had been so proud to find for him – the one that Brian pretended he only wore for the kids, but she really doubted that. He was eating a banana and staring at his phone, that they'd both left downstairs in the hope of maybe actually getting a night without interruptions.

"Please tell me your mother isn't ready to be rid of our children at 5 a.m. in the morning," Olivia mouthed at him.

He looked up and gave her a little amused noise. "Nah, it's just a work thing. Sorry," he apologized and set the phone back down. It could clearly wait. And if he was willing to set it down – she was willing to resist the urge to pick up her own phone and seen when she'd missed overnight too. Sometimes you needed to do that. Maybe it was something her and Brian both needed to do a little more. To be present with each other. And with their kids.

"Mmm …," she allowed and moved into his space, wrapping her arms around him and settling back against him. His arm came back up around her and his lips pressed a kiss against her forehead. "You sneak down here to check your phone?"

He took a bite of the banana again and talked around it. "Thought my potassium and electrolyte levels need some balancing after last night."

She smiled against his chest. "I can't believe you're hungry after our meal."

"Hey, pretty sure I more than burned off those calories and worked up an appetite."

"Mmm …," she said and glanced at the coffee pot. "You know we don't need to be up and to the ice rink by 8 a.m. today, right?"

He followed her eyes and shrugged. "Habit."

"You should come back to bed," she suggested.

He put his mouth against the crown of her head. "That mean you aren't done yet?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I'm definitely not done sleeping yet."

His cheek rested against her crown that time. "I'm spent but don't think I'll sleep. Wanted to let you sleep – before I do get a text from Ma saying we need to retrieve the little monsters A-SAP."

"I actually think your mom will be thinking we're the monsters if we go and pick them up before about 11 a.m.," Olivia said.

He made a small sound of agreement. "Only pretty sure we'll be getting an S-O-S from Em when breakfast is served. Ma bought Eggos as a 'treat'."

"That is definitely an emergency," Olivia agreed.

"'Wrong'," Brian intoned in the single word all attitude response that both of their kids gave them regularly – at their own peril.

"She has a point. I'm not sure Eggos should be allowed to exist in the same universe as Daddy's Belgian waffles."

"You want me to make breakfast?" he asked.

She shook her head a bit. "I'm not hungry yet," she said but retrieved the last bit of banana he had and ate it anyways.

"Not hungry, eh?"

She shrugged. And his lips pressed against her forehead again as she chewed.

"What you want to do today?" she asked.

"I don't know," Bri said. "Might as well switch it up since we're off-routine anyway. What do you want to do?"

She thought for a beat and held him and then swallowed. "Let's just keep having fun."

**Please review. Right now I only have one more chapter officially planned. I have a couple ideas for others.**


	18. Werewolf Worries

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Brian moved his eyes from the game to watch Big Man round the corner on the stairs and stare a little cautiously at him. Like he was real nervous that he was going to be growled at to get his ass back up to bed. But it wasn't that kind of night. And, Cassidy had already heard his pending arrival.

Heard the kid get out of bed. Heard him go to the can. Heard the toilet flush. Heard Ben creep down the hall to peek into his and Liv's room and then heard the creep back down to the top of the stairs. Had felt him standing there for a long beat – likely listening for him and his Mom talking or something. Or the TV. Could likely see the light from it. But Bri had the volume real low for pretty much that exact reason – the expectation – that his boy would be sleeping even less than usual that night. He'd be needed. No downtime from Daddy Duty that day. Not that it really mattered – he wasn't sleeping either.

"Can't sleep?" Bri nodded at him.

Ben shook his head but just kept fidgeting on the stairs all nervous like. So Bri gave his head a little jerk in a gesture for him to come over. And Big Man did. Real quick. Down those last couple stairs at the turn in the stairwell and curled right up on that end of the couch next to him.

Brian wrapped his arm around him. And listened again for a long moment – waiting to see if Em had heard – or sensed – her brother up and decided to do the Little Duckling thing, trailing after him. But at least for the moment, it sounded like she must be sleeping through. She'd be up later – if not sooner – though, wanting her glass of water from the kitchen.

Still, satisfied he let his head settled back against the back of the sofa again, as Ben wedged himself right up against his heart – stealing it as, usual. Fucking kids. No one prepares you for quite what they do to your whole being. Thought you were even a little less prepared when they aren't your flesh and blood. Like you somehow think that since they aren't 'yours' those instincts don't kick in in quite the same way. It somehow feels different. And maybe it did. Brian didn't know. Didn't have a point of comparison. But sure knew Ben and Em felt like his kids – and he'd already done the whole blood, sweat and tears thing for them – because of that. They fucking make your heart exist outside your body – every single day.

They stared at the tail end of the March Madness match-up he had on the screen. He reached for the remote and turned it up a couple notches so Big Man might actually be able to hear it, if he wanted. Though, his little buddy was usually pretty content to watch the games on mute with him. They knew how to call their own games.

"Mom's not home yet," Ben finally whispered at him. More of a statement than a question.

"Mmm," Brian acknowledged and held him a bit closer. "A case still has her caught up at work."

"But it's really late," Ben whispered against his chest again.

"Yea," Cassidy said and gripped at Big Man's shoulder. "But you know sometimes stuff comes up that your Ma's got to take care of. Part of the job."

"But you're almost always home by dinner …," Ben mumbled.

Bri rested his mouth on the to of his kid's head. He didn't get to know Ben as a baby – but he knew enough from Em that kid's had that smile right there in their crown when they were little. Ended up with Ducky passed out on his chest enough in those early months of her being home that he knew her smell there. Another thing that got ingrained in you. That likely kicked in some kind of biological instinct about these being your people – your kids. Your tribe. He could still catch whiffs of that baby scent on his little girl sometimes when she cuddled right in. Still tried to know it – imagine it, catch it – on Ben even though he hadn't known it at the time. He thought he knew his kid enough now to know it, though. Just like he knew where this conversation was eventually headed – where the nerves really were. His were in the same place.

"Yep," Brian conceded. "That's our set-up."

And it was. One of them needed a gig that had more predictable hours – 90 per cent of the time. Liv's lieutenant promotion – supervisory role – had definitely helped with that. But not always. She'd end up on all. She'd go through the rotation as the supervisory that got called in or had to take on a holiday. Or cases would pop that just necessitated that she not command from behind a desk. She had to get out in the field, had to work through the night, had to be available on the weekend. It was the job. They all understood that. It just wasn't a super great gig with small kids at home. Especially when they were both working those kinds of shifts and rotations and scheduling.

Just reached the point it wasn't working. Not with their move over to Brooklyn. Not with the cost of daycare for Emmy as a baby and toddler. Not with family life. Not with shit going on with Ben at school and how much he was struggling academically – and before they had a grip on what the hell was going on. It was just the way it was. Something had to give.

So Brian had. It wasn't exactly a sacrifice. He wasn't loving the IAB thing. He had his Twenty and change. So he wasn't going to pretend like he was the family martyr who'd fallen on his sword for Liv's sake. Wasn't the way it was. Never tried to hold that over her. It was definitely his decision.

And he'd done it for a while. The retired cop, at-home Dad thing. There'd been some positive aspects to it. He wouldn't say it was a fucking disaster. Though, in some ways it was. It made the whole dynamic between him and Liv as a couple and as parents a little weird. And ultimately it just wasn't his fucking thing. He was too young to not be on the job. And as much as he loved Em – fuck, spending all day with a pre-schooler? That was some exhausting, mind-numbing shit – no matter what kind of … wiz-weird Emmy-like Einstein she was. And the cooking and cleaning and groceries and errands and never-fucking-ending laundry and constant going to the park clogged with the Mommy Mafia and the nannies?

His balls were starting to more than crawl up into him rather than if he was hitting them into the lake at the 16th hole. Felt like they were all falling into a bit of a hole with that whole set up actually. The NYPD pension at your Twenty wasn't all it was cracked up to be when you had a new place you were paying for and kids you were still looking at like another twenty-years of needing to by able to support.

And the whole retired life thing? When you're a man raising a young family and you've been the job since you were in your 20s and your woman is still out there doing the job and bringing in the pay check? No matter how fucking progressively, modern, New Age, raising two little feminists in the 21st century he tried to be – it just wasn't working for him. Least not for his sanity and patience on the home front. He was turning into a real bitch to be around. Thought both Liv and the kids were starting to get just as annoyed with him as he was aggravated by the whole situation that he'd picked out for himself.

So the summer before Ducky was headed into Pre-K and Johnny came knocking about a spot in the Investigator's Office for the District Attorney? Ta-dah. It hadn't taken a whole lot of thought to jump on that deal. There hadn't even been much of a discussion between him and Liv about it. He'd pretty much said he was doing it. And she pretty much said she got. And he knew she would. She did.

It was working out better. For the most part. Wasn't perfect. But them both bringing in a nice paycheck, the kids both school-aged now. Basically, they had their little routine and family lifestyle down. They made it work the way they needed to work. That was the set-up. The plan. Was what it was. And the kids knew that too – like it or not – Mommy and Daddy's jobs were what they were and sometimes that meant that things didn't always go the way they wanted. And sometimes that meant their routine changed on a hairpin. And they all just had to deal.

"Will she home by morning?" Ben asked.

"Should be," Brian allowed.

He didn't really know. He knew Liv would be pushing for that. With what they had on the go in the morning. That she'd do everything in her power to make sure of it. But he never really got given the details on what popped at work. He didn't need to. He'd done the job long enough to know what kind of shit you got called out to in the middle of the night. What kind of shit kept you there all night and then some.

But that time the phone call had gone on long enough to know that there were layers of politics involved in this one. So it was going to be a priority type situation. Dodds was on her ass. IA was pushing in there – and looking over their shoulder. A case involving cops was always messy. A case involving cops, politicians and lawyers – and rape – it was just a fucking disaster.

She was going to be jammed up for a while. Even after things got sorted out enough for charges – if there ever were any in this kind of case – it'd be falling after her for a while. This would be a real dot your Is and cross your Ts kind of thing. It'd drag out. Or maybe it'd go at the fucking speed of light to try to get it all swept under the rug before the media caught too much wind of what was going on.

Who fucking knew. Sometimes this shit was fucking fickle. He hated that. The politics of justice. Didn't make it feel like justice at all in a whole lot of cases. Whole lot of experience with that on a whole lot of levels – personal, professional, public and private.

Stroked at his kid's hair, though. Stared at the game. Clock counting down. That was OK. The day's highlights would be run next. Hard to keep up with it all at this point in the tournament.

"You worrying about tomorrow," he put to the kid.

Knew he was. They all were. Even though they were trying to shelter Emmy from it she was definitely picking up on the vibe. So her anxiety and clinginess was up too – if it hadn't been already. Fuck. 2019 wasn't starting out as a good year for their fam-damily. At all.

Ben's cheek just rubbed up and down where it was against him in a nod. So Cassidy just gripped him a bit tighter.

"Yea," he allowed. "Me too. But ya know – they showed us the room where we're going do the treatment, right? And, I mean, Big Man, you saw that set-up. We're basically going to be picking a flick or playing some PlayStation for a couple hours. And then home we come. Right?"

Ben just stared up at him with big sad eyes. Brian inwardly sighed and pressed his lips softly on his forehead in a light kiss. He left them there. Just held his kid.

"It's goin' to be alright, Big Man," he said there – on his forehead.

"Promise?"

"Yea, Ben. I do," he said. And he hoped to fucking God he wasn't lying. He wasn't much for prayer – wasn't much for God. But lately? He didn't know. Did know, though, that Ma was putting up the prayers double-time on all their behalves. So hopefully – maybe – that was worth something in this fucking existence.

"What if Mom's not home by morning?" Ben asked.

"Then she'll meet us at the hospital," he said. "No biggie."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Brian said. "Guarantee it."

And again – he really fucking hoped he wasn't lying. But he didn't think he was. Liv would be losing her fucking mind if she wasn't going to be in for this first IV thing. Brian knew how fucking guilty he felt that he hadn't bowed out of work on Ben's respiratory consult day. That he hadn't pulled himself away and gotten his ass over to the hospital when Liv had called and said they were sending Ben for a fucking arm's list of tests – on the spot. He should've. It was still eating at him that he hadn't been there for his kid. That he hadn't been there for Liv because she was a fucking mess when he'd gotten home that night. She was trying to hold it together – but he knew her. It was just spilling out of her.

He wasn't going to make that mistake again. That was a one-time fuck-up. Lesson learnt. And he was pretty sure it was a lesson learnt for Liv too. Big fucking spotlight on how they were going to have to deal with all this. So he was pretty damn certain that if she had to she'd stay on the job until the last possible second – but when it came to getting over to the children's hospital on time for Ben's drip? She'd walk away from the case. Wouldn't matter what pressure she was getting from Dodds or IA or who-the-fuck-ever. She'd be putting Ben – their family – first when it reached that point. And she'd – they'd – just have to deal with any of the consequences and fall-out of that later. And fucking work – Dodds – they were just going to have to deal with the new reality too. That there were going to be some days from now and forever where their kid's health was going to take precedent. Full-stop. And for the next six months to two years – God, again, he just really fucking hoped it was only going to need to be six months – it was going to mean there was going to be one day a month they'd be booking off. Full-stop. Was what it was. And it was the way it was going to be. And they'd take it from there.

"What 'bout Peedg?"

"Me and your Ma will be communicating with Jack all day. He's gonna come by here as soon as he wraps his stuff for the day. Gonna stay overnight. You know the plan, Big Man," Brian reaffirmed. Again. For about the tenth time that night. Trying to keep the kid from spinning out.

And it did for a brief second.

"Mom'll be tired," Ben mumbled.

Brian shrugged. "Won't matter. I'll let you in on a secret, Big Man – your mom and dad – we're always tired. We're old."

He felt his kid smile a little against him at that. And he got quiet. So they just looked at the screen a bit for a while.

"Do you like basketball or hockey better?" Ben asked. Random.

"Like 'em both," Brian said.

"But which one better?"

"I don't know, Big Man. I like 'em both for different reasons. Different parts of them."

"Like what?"

Brian exhaled and clicked down the volume on the TV a bit. Clearly they didn't need to hear what was going on.

"I don't know. I like getting in an arena and on the ice. Like putting on the skates. But I guess I play ball better."

"I'm better at hockey," Ben said.

"Sure," Brian allowed. "I'd agree with that. But you're pretty good on the court too, Big Man. Got some good foot work and real hustle."

"Does that mean I'm still gonna be allowed to play ball?"

Brian looked down at him, tilting Ben's forehead up so they locked eyes. "Why wouldn't you be allowed to play ball?"

Ben shrugged. "Cuz I'm not allowed to play hockey no more …"

"Hey," Brian nodded at him. "No one said anything about you not playing hockey anymore."

"But usually I get to play til May and this year you said I couldn't. Cuz lupus."

"No," Brian shook his head. "That is not how it went down, Benjamin. Your hockey season was over. Me and your Ma decided not to put down the real big registration fee for the spring session when A) You haven't been feeling too well this winter and we missed out on a bunch of ice time; B) You're starting on a bunch of new medicine and that takes some time for your body to get used to; C) We don't know yet if these IVs are gonna be rough or a real breeze; and 4)" he gave his kid a nudge at that purposeful switch. "Your body's been through a lot, Ben. It's telling you it needs some time to regroup. We've all got to listen to it."

"So then why do I still get to play basketball?"

Brian put his forehead against his kid's. "Because we already paid for it," he intoned slowly, making sure they were connected long enough they both went cross-eyed.

It earned a laugh and Ben nudged away. "No refunds ..."

Brian shook his head. "No refunds," he agreed. He scruffed at the kid's head of hair. "You'll play hockey again, Big Man. The fall. We just all need to learn about listening to what your body's telling you the next while. That's all."

Ben flopped back against him and stared at the screen again. Brian did too. But this time he didn't bother to turn it up.

And good thing too, because: "Why's it called lupus?" Ben started up again.

"Likely because that's what some doctor decided to call it," Brian provided flatly.

"Lupus is the real animal name for a wolf," the kid said.

"Yea," Brian allowed.

Ben's cheek rubbed against his chest again in extended thought. Could feel the gears turning.

"You think maybe in ancient times they thought people who had lupus were werewolves?"

He smiled into the top of his kid's head again. "That's good stuff, Ben," he said.

There was so much of Liv in this kid. It was another way nature-nurture – just parenting – got to you. Having the bits and pieces of your better half in this whole other being. It was so fucking strange. It was like … opposites. If they were walking down the street – looks-wise, Ben was his and Em was Liv's. Just no question. Also weird. But personalities – it flipped. Drove him a little mental sometimes with both of the kids. He was either arguing with a second Liv – which usually meant a losing battle. Or arguing with himself – his fucking Mini Me. And dealing with that side of his little girl had definitely enlightened him on just how much of a pain in the ass he could be.

Confusing – infuriating – how that all worked. It boggled his mind. Just how much they ended up with kids that were so fucking theirs in so many ways. They were just theirs. Felt like theirs. Looked at them – listened to them – and just heard and saw themselves so much. It was like fuck genetics. Just fuck them. He really learned when it came to family – that only mattered so much. Didn't matter much at all. It wasn't what made them yours. Holding them, loving them, raising them. That's what did. It was the nurture. That's how they became you and what made them and shaped them.

It did. It had. Because Brian did know that Ben had Liv's humor. That had run off on him. These little quips and puns. Sometimes just being a downright smart-ass in a gotcha moment. But they both made him smile. Made him laugh. That took some comedic talent.

"I actually read that, you know how sometimes you get that red rash on your cheeks?" Brian put out there.

"Yea …?"

"In 'ancient times', the docs looking at it thought the pattern of the rash kind of looked like that pattern of fur on a wolf's face. So lupus."

Could feel the gears processing again. Considering that.

"That's kinda dumb," was what it got.

"Yea," Brian agreed. "Kinda."

And he got quiet again. Real quiet. Then: "Maybe since we're foxes we should say that I have vulpes. Like instead of lupus. Cuz that's the real animal name for a fox."

Brian gave a sad little smile at that but nodded for the kid. "Kinda like the sound of that. Sorta bad-ass."

"Swear," Ben said.

Little fucker. But didn't say that one.

"What? Think that catch should get you an extra quarter or something this week's allowance?"

Ben thought that over. "Or unlimited screen-time tomorrow?"

Brian made a little sound at that negotiation. Let the kid think it was a negotiation, though. Even though, Cassidy was pretty sure it was a given given the circumstances.

"Done," he allowed.

"Being a werewolf might be kinda awesome too, though. Like they're kinda cool. And freaky."

"Could be. Go all Teen Wolf," Brian provided.

Ben looked at him. Complete confusion. Brian rubbed at his face and stared at the screen.

"It's a movie," he said. "From when I was a kid."

"About werewolves?"

"About a kid who's a basketball player. And a werewolf."

"Is he a good basketball player?"

"Nah, he sucks. But then he figures out he's a werewolf and kills it on the court," Brian said.

Gears going again.

"So basically he finds out he has lupus – or like is a lupus – and then he's an All-Star?"

Brian let out a chuckle at that and smiled at his kid. "Yea. Pretty much."

"I dunno. Maybe it doesn't sound that bad."

"Yea, well, seeing as your Gramma doesn't know how to throw anything away, can likely see if she's still got it on a VHS tape somewhere. Taped right off the TV. With commercials."

"Or we could just like steam it …" Benji said.

Brian tilted his head. "Nah. Should watch it on Gramma's VCR for the true '80's movie experience."

"Daaaaddd, you're so weird," Benji mumbled against him.

"Not the first person to say that," he said. "Think that about sums up your Ma's early impressions too."

And those eyes of his looked up at him again. "Mom thinks you're really brave now," Benji said. "Me too."

Brian gave his head a little cock at that. Wasn't sure where that was coming from. But sort of nice to hear that perspective from his kid. Though, wasn't sure he deserved it. Thought it was likely because of the job. Maybe because of the bullet holes. And just hoped it wasn't related to something to do with his own shit and the kid getting any inkling of what was going on there. Because – all that shit and how that courtroom experience had gone down – didn't make him feel brave. Felt like the coward he'd been accused of being. About all of that in a lot of ways. Even though he was just a little boy. Like this little boy – his little boy – staring up at him. But he still managed a thin smile for the kid. "Yea, sometimes she says that. Only when I'm not royally pissing her off," he teased. But Ben was looking at him so serious.

"Mom's really brave too," Big Man said.

Brian squeezed his shoulder. "She is," he agreed. Full-stop. Not argument there at all.

"I don't think I'm brave like you and Mom," Ben whispered at him. His eyes glistening at him. "Cuz I'm sorta really scared."

Brain pulled him tight and pressed another kiss against his forehead and looked into your eyes. "Big Man, everyone's afraid of the unknown. First time is the hardest. But then we're gonna know what to expect. We're gonna be pros."

Benji just shook his head against him and buried his face against his chest. Brian could feel hot tears there. And he held even tighter – burying his own head in the top of his little boy's head.

"Ben, you know what," he pressed there. "I know you're even braver than me and your mom. Because you were just a little, little guy and you had to go through fucking hell to get home here with your mom and me. Had to be real strong and real brave to survive all that. So, I absolutely know – tomorrow and all this – you're way more than brave enough and strong enough. OK? And you're gonna get through it – we're all gonna be there to get you through it. And end of the day – we're all gonna be home again. You, me, Mommy, Emmy and Jack. OK?"

And Ben nodded. But Brain could still feel the tears. Against his chest and in his own eyes too.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**I'm going to try for a few more chapters. Currently planned are:**

**-Family moment on a school night (Liv POV)**

**-Emmy's birthday (Rollins POV)**

**-Likely an Easter/Spring Break moment (like Liv POV)**

**-have some thoughts on another Brian/Benji chat**

**-have some thoughts on a Liv/Eileen chat (if I write them going to visit Cragen)**

**-have some thoughts on a Liv/Jack moment**

**I also got asked about including LEWIS in this story and if it's the same timeline as WH and HG. It is the same timeline as WH/HG. It's not a breakout AU with the same characters. **

**I do recall that I previously hadn't wanted to include the Lewis abduction/assault in the WH/HG AU series. Because basically it would've been really dark and would've entirely fucked up Benji and Jack as human-beings with the trauma they'd previously been through. However, in the context of the stuff Liv and Brian are coping with now, I think it's important that Lewis happened. It can just be assumed that it happened somewhere in the 5/6 years that passed between the last time we saw the characters in WH and now. **

**And, no, I don't have any intentions of going back and writing that section of story and how the family handled it in the immediate aftermath. Just assume it screwed with them and they worked through it (there will likely be some references to how in this story if I continue playing with it for very long). I would assume that adding Emmy to the family — much like Olivia adopting Noah in the series — provided some healing power and purpose to distract them and motivating them to keep moving forward and to work at moving on.**

**Thanks for reading. Readership, reviews, feedback and comments are so much appreciated and definitely work as some motivation in keeping to write and post. This story really does have low readership (only about 100 of you per chapter) so I do appreciate those who are reading. And I appreciate even more the very few of you who do take the time to comment.**


	19. Fair Faults

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia jumped as she heard the door to their bedroom open. She hadn't heard anything – the pad of little feet down the hallway – before that. But she'd been pretty involved in the moment – and Brian's aroused breathes next, and against, her ear. Not to mention his sounds – and hers. But that sound – the unmistakable unlatching of their bedroom door jam – had definitely been enough to pull her out of the warm sensations that had been slowly spreading through her body.

She wasn't sure if it was the door opening or her jump that alerted Brian – but either way, he'd froze and let out a sound that wasn't anywhere near pleasurable. His head hanging slightly for a beat, immediately sagging onto his one elbow – pulling out of her slightly – and blocking her from partial view of the cracked door. He glanced behind his back and then looked away.

"You need to knock, Ben," he said flatly – but maybe a touch too firmly.

The door pulled partially back shut – but then stayed open just a crack. "I don't feel good," was whimpered through it.

Olivia rested a hand against to Brian's still pounding heart – likely for more than one reason at that point. He hung his head again and she just nodded at him. "I've got it," she mouthed silently and then shifted her position even more away from him, gathering the blankets she was thankful they'd been under, around her even more too. "Benji, go wait in the bathroom, please. I'll be there in a minute to get you your pill."

The door still hung open a crack a long moment like he was expecting more. But then it finally clicked back shut.

"Shit," Brian muttered, rolling onto his back and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

She reached and pulled his one hand away to catch his eyes. "It's dark. We're … mostly clothed. We were under the covers. It was a split second. He didn't see anything. It's OK," she assured him.

He tilted his head at her – mild annoyance there. "He knows."

"I know he knows," she said. "I'm going to check on him. But it's fine."

Brian shook his head. "We shouldn't have …"

She gazed at him hard. "We shouldn't have been what? Been comforting each other after … a truly awful few days?" He looked at her – broken in his own way. Olivia touched his cheek. "I am sure he's going to be fine. Are you?"

He scrubbed his face. "Yea," he muttered. But she wasn't sure she believed him. She weighed his body language. She measured if this was going to trigger him with the headspace he'd been in lately. "You want me to-?"

She glanced down the sheets. The moment was definitely passed for both of them. His erection – which had been slow growing that night – was no longer evident under the fabrics. And, it really hadn't been … that kind of sex anyway. It'd been … like she said … about comforting each other. It'd grown out of talking and holding each other and being teary together. It'd just evolved in the holding and touching and hugging and kissing in trying to get through it. All of this. Mess after mess. This pit they'd fallen into together and just trying to tread water while they searched for their way out.

"Take a few minutes," she said, leaning in to give him a brief kiss. She thought he still needed it – to calm down in other ways.

She rose from the bed, pulling her tank back into place and grabbing her sleep pants from where it'd ended up, she treaded to their en suite bathroom. A quick pee and clean up - and she emerged to pop out the bedroom door.

Benji was sitting on the edge of the tub when she entered the kids' bathroom up there. He gave her sad eyes.

"Are you mad?" he whispered.

She shook her head at him, but she was already taking his pale, clammy complex in. It wasn't the right moment for a lecture on this. Though, she did give him a quick reminder of the rules they had in place – the ones meant to avoid this kind of awkward and embarrassing moment for everyone. And the triggers that were involved for certain members of their family – whether they wanted to admit them or knew where they were coming from or not.

"No, Benj, I'm not mad. But Daddy's right. You're old enough to know, know, know – you need to knock."

"So Dad's mad?" he croaked out.

"No," she said and moved toward him, placing her hand first against his forehead and then against his cheeks. He was clammy. That hot, chilled feeling of sticking to his skin. "But Daddy and I respect that you don't like closed doors and locked doors. And that means you've got to respect that when we do close the door shut – it means we need privacy. You knock. You don't barge right in. You know that."

"It didn't see … anything," he eyed her meekly.

"And you would've seen even less if you knocked," she kept his eyes.

"But I don't feel well," he whimpered again.

She nodded at him. "I can tell, Little Fox," she said and moved to the medicine cabinet.

Olivia retrieved his anti-nausea medication and pulled out a tablet and filled the cup of water to give to him. He sipped at it and she stared at him a bit more. The way his pajamas were sticking to him.

She reached and touched them too. They felt damp as well and she looked down farther at how he was holding at and ringing at the fabric in his pants at the thighs. She reached and moved his hand. He gave her a wounded look. She frowned and crouched down a bit to be more at his height.

"Did you wet the bed, Benj?" she asked gently.

His eyes welled and he shook his head hard. And her eyes welled too and she reached and wrapped her arms around him. Her hands running up the back of his hair as she did and he buried his eyes against her shoulder, trying to hide his tears.

"It's OK, sweetheart," she hushed at him. "Remember, the doctor said this medicine irritates your bladder. And we need to drink, drink, drink so much to help your body flush all the bad stuff out as quick as we can after these IVs. So sometimes this happens. Sometimes. It's not your fault. Your body's doing what it needs to do to get better. Two days after treatment – that's the worse part, he said. Right? We're almost there. You're going to be feeling so much better soon."

She stroked at the back of his head and held him, rocked him a bit. Tried her best to calm him. He was so scared and confused. Hospitals were so bad for him. So triggering for him – in ways she wasn't sure he entirely remembered or understood. But he'd been so overwhelmed. Her little boy.

And Olivia didn't blame him. She was too. Overwhelmed, scared, confused. And she was an adult – and it wasn't her body going through all this on top of it.

She backed from him slightly and held at his shoulders. "We're going to get you cleaned up," she nodded at him. "Do you want me to help or to get Daddy?"

His watery eyes just stared at her. So she nodded and reached at the hem of his damp shirt.

"You must be really cold in these PJs. Let's take this off," she said and helped him pull it over his head. He shivered a bit against the air. His arms still had that damp, sticky, sweaty, chilled look. "OK …"

She reached and turned on the faucet, testing the water as it ran warm and then cranked the shower up – steam near instantly starting to fill the cool air in the room.

She then nudged Benji back toward the toilet, putting down the seat and lid that he'd likely left up. She sat him down on it.

"I'm going to get Daddy," she said. "OK? And I'll change your sheets."

"I can't sleep," he whimpered.

"I know," she assured. "Not right now. But the medicine is going to kick in and you're going to start feeling better. And Daddy's going to help you get warmed up. And I'll make a tea for you to try to help warm your insides up even more and settle your tummy. And help you feel a bit more sleepy again too. OK?"

He nodded at her weakly. And she tried a smile for him, rubbing her thumb against his forehead.

"OK," she agreed. "You just stay put. Daddy will be right here. Soon."

She exited the one room and grabbed the knob to their room and as she opened the door, Brian again jumped in the process of pulling on his briefs. His eyes bolted to her wild.

"It's just me," she said, holding out a calming hand. "Are you OK?"

"Yea …," he managed, letting his arms relax, reaching to retrieve a top from his dresser drawer. "Sorry …"

"Bri," she pressed gently.

He nodded. "I am."

She wasn't sure she believed him. At all. She ran her hand through her hair. And sighed. She wasn't sure how to deal with this right now. If he said he was OK – she was going to have to believe him. Trust him. So they could deal with their child right now. They could talk about the rest of it later – if there was anything to talk about.

"He wet his bed," she put flatly. Brian exhaled – completely deflated. "And he's really cold. Sweaty. Are you in a place where you can help him wash up a bit? Try to get him warmed up? He looks a little weak, shaky. I don't want him to slip in the shower."

"Yea," he said immediately. "Absolutely." He pulled on the undershirt and started to for the door. But she reached to find his hand.

"Bri, really. You're OK?"

"Yes," he told her a bit more firmly.

She eyed him for a long beat. She made him keep her eyes. And he did. They now looked more lit with concern than their previous agitation. That flicker that she was learning to look for. The triggering there she should've known long ago – but could not see when it shone bright. Like a little flame in his eyes – though not a light behind them.

She squeezed his hand. "He says he didn't see anything," she assured him. "And he was more concerned we were upset with him than anything else. He's OK."

"OK," Brian managed. But then gazed at her. "Are you OK?"

She ran her hand through her hair again while she tried to find words for that. No. She wasn't. Their child shouldn't have to be going through this. Their family. They'd been through enough. They all had. Their children more than definitely had.

But she still managed, "Yeah." It was a lie. "I'm just going to pull his sheets off his bed. Make him a ginger or peppermint tea."

"OK," Brian agreed.

"OK …," she allowed and released his hand. She let him leave the room and gave herself a beat to collect herself before she creep back down the hall to peek into the kids' bedroom.

By some miracle Emmy was still sleeping. But she didn't really expect that to last.

In just their never-ending nightlight of the moon and the glow-in-the-dark stars on green light reflecting off the ceiling, she reached and pulled Benji's comforter off his bed. Working as quietly and quickly as possible.

She grabbed at the pillows. And stopped. She stared at the case. There were strands of hair. Not one or two – or five. But a little clump together in one spot.

It felt like she was moving in slow motion – reaching out and touching it. The dawning disbelief of what it was. The catching of the breath in her chest and the choked on sob in her throat as her eyes welled.

The doctor had said that it could happen. That technically the drug was so low dose that it didn't happen to everyone – but it was more likely to happen to children, because of their small body mass. And Benji – he was on the younger end of pediatric onset lupus. And he was already small for his age. They'd been told. Warned. And warned that with children it seemed to happen very soon after treatment – not weeks down the line. But you just don't want to believe it will affect your child. And even if you do – you aren't prepared for it.

You aren't prepared for any of this.

Still Olivia forced herself to pull it together. To not let those tears fall. To not wake her other child. To not scare either of the children. To not turn this into more. To try to make this completely abnormal and unfair situation as seemingly normal as possible.

So she striped the bed quickly – in four quick movements. And she left the room, taking the laundry down the stairs and immediately putting it into the washing machine. Going and boiling the water and picking the teabag and standing there steeping it – trying not to think about anything.

But she was. Her mind was churning so much lately. Pulled all these different ways. She didn't know where to start. Her issues. Brian's issues. Benji's issues. Emmy's issues. Bullying, dyslexia, 504, IEP, middle school, gifted programme, lupus. Jack. Work. … Rollins, Carisi … and all the worry and care-taking and managing that was involved in being "the boss" too. Cases and ADAs and victims and injustice justice. Past, present and future.

It was just turning into a mess. Much a mess that it all just muddled together and she was starting to struggle to separate it all. And then she didn't know how to compartmentalize it all. How to keep one thing from mucking up another. How to not let her own emotions keep her from taking the best and logical action.

She needed to go back to therapy. Not couple's therapy or family therapy or parenting therapy. She was going to need some place – some one – to talk to about some of this privately. She knew Brian struggled with that – especially right now because he'd know it meant she was "talking about him". But she was reaching the point she knew she needed help to get through this – whatever this was. Just life, it seemed like. What their life – their family – was.

She'd been too lost in her thoughts again – because she didn't hear her little boy come down the stairs. He crept into the kitchen – clothed in clean pajamas – and peeking at her. She brushed at his still damp hair – though it looked and felt like Brian had done a good job at drying it. She watched her fingers as they thread through it – looking for where that clump had come out, for that thin spot. And Brian appeared in the doorway and gave her a long, sad look – and she knew in his toweling he must've seen more strands come out on the towel. And she frowned too and dropped her hand away.

"Peppermint," she offered Benji and then pointed back in at the couch. "Go sit."

He did but he waited for her to bring it over and sit down too – getting next to her and cuddling in while Brian rested on the other side of him.

Olivia carefully handed him the tea – keeping it steady in his hands while he blew on it and moved it for a sip.

"Careful," she said gently. "It's still going to be really hot."

They just sat like that. Benji curled against her and her holding at him – while Brian reached around them both and drew slow circles at the base of her neck. It was enough to get her to let herself half-close her eyelids as she watched their child. The anti-nausea medication made him sleepy. Hopefully the warm water and warm tea and being surrounded by his parents' attempts at comfort would lull Benji off soon.

"Mommy …?," Benji whispered.

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed.

"Were you guys S-E-X-ing?" he asked so quietly.

Olivia let out a slow exhale and looked at Brian. "Yes," she forced herself to provide - honestly. "And that's why you should've knocked. Mommy and Daddy were having private time."

Benji just stayed curled against her. So still. Not looking at either of them. It was him now contemplating the tea.

"You guys don't have baby making sex …?" he asked.

Her fingers found his hair again and she twisted at it a bit – even though she knew she really shouldn't.

"No, Benji. Mommy and Daddy made this family together in a different way. You know that too. And it's really late and we're all really tired to be talking about it again right now."

And he was quiet again.

"No one's mad, Big Man," Brian provided and touched Benji's shoulder.

Benji nodded a bit against her. And the quiet sat there again. He wasn't drinking his tea anymore.

"Why didn't you guys just make me?" he almost whimpered.

"Benji," Olivia sighed a little and held at him. "We've talked about this so many times. Your dad and I weren't together that way when you were born. And if Mommy and Daddy made you – you wouldn't be you. You'd be someone completely different and then we wouldn't have you. And we really, really love our Little Fox – so we wouldn't want that, a different you."

"But maybe the different me wouldn't have lupus," he whispered.

She looked at Brian with her eyes watering. His weren't doing much better. He squeezed at Benji's shoulder some more.

"The docs don't know how lupus works, Big Man," he tried. His voice cracked a bit. "But they seem to think it's likely got nothing to do with genes."

"So maybe I got sick cuz my mama didn't know how to take care of me and she made me sick and dumb now," he whined out at a near whimper.

Brian and Olivia shared a look. what was there to say to that.

"So maybe you would've or maybe you wouldn't have," Brian spoke first. "But same as everything else – same as the dyslexia – it's a part of you. And we like – love - all of you. End of story."

"But it's not fair," Benji croaked out. "I don't like the IVs. I don't feel well." And the tears started. They tumbled and Olivia held him so tight. Brian wrapping in around the both of them too.

"It's not fair," she agreed. "But it's not your fault."


	20. Holding On

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia stood behind her desk, stuffing yet another pile of take-home work for the weekend into her bag. Though, she wasn't sure she'd have too much time – or want – to look at it that weekend. But it'd be there if she did. Or if something came up that she needed to reference one of the files quickly while plugging away on some paperwork – or more likely getting a call from one of her over-zealous young detectives – namely Carisi.

And speak – think – of the devil, there he was sticking his head in the door of her office. He needed a lesson on knocking too. She didn't want to imagine the kinds of conflicts and missteps and embarrassments that charge-in mentality he seemed to have had caused growing up in a house full of sisters. Clearly there hadn't been enough run-ins that he'd learned his lesson.

"You getting a jump start on the weekend, Lieu?" he asked – too cheerily. She never saw him drinking a whole lot of coffee compared to most cops. But he sure seemed to have near boundless energy despite that. Considering he was into his 30s and still like that, she also didn't want to imagine the little boy energy he'd had when he was younger either. He must've driven his mother – and sisters – nuts. He likely still did. Though, she'd met enough of his family to know that he was generally just trying to be a good brother and good son. Not that it was always appreciated. He'd likely gone through that most of his life – unappreciated. And probably the target of unwanted attention because he was always bouncing off the walls and in someone's business.

"I am," she glared at him over the top of her glasses. "So you better not be coming in here to tell me you're taking off on some tangent on one of your cases."

"Nah, nah," he swatted at the jam of her door, barely loitering outside of it. "Just, you know, thought I should check that you still want me to be inviting Bella and her troops to Emmy's big shindig on Sunday. I mean, I understand—"

"Carisi," she held up her hand to stop him. "I wouldn't have suggested it, if I was going to revoke the invitation."

He gave a smile and gripped the jam again. "Yea, sure, OK," he agreed. He spun and nearly rammed into Rollins also headed in to apparently stall her attempt at an almost on-time departure. "We'll be there," he said, dodging around her and gesturing at Amanda. "Right? Right."

Amanda just made a sound and Olivia again eyed her over the top of her glasses that time. That didn't' sound like a 'yes' – let alone a 'looking forward to it'.

"Just remember – PLEASE, only bring yourselves," she called after Carisi and then shook her head in correction, and pulled her glasses off. "Unless you want to eat something other than hot dogs, Cheetos and ice cream – then, please, feel free to bring food adults consume."

Amanda arched an eyebrow at her. "You don't consume hot dogs, Cheetos and ice cream?" she said flatly.

"I think in the past seven years I've exceeded my life-time quota for those three food groups," Olivia said. "At least for when they are grouped in the same sitting."

Amanda smiled. And Carisi leaned back in. "Yea, I was going to bring my Mom's cannoli."

Olivia gazed at him. "I was thinking maybe more something that constitutes a fruit or vegetable."

Carisi held up a dismissive hand at that. "Nah, don't worry about it. These are homemade. From scratch. Everyone loves Mom's cannoli."

Amanda tilted her head at that. It was clearly a statement she'd heard before. But Olivia had seen her eat this infamous cannoli on more than one occasion. It seemed like every time – which was seemingly near weekly – Carisi checked-in on his parents, he ended up bringing in a box of cannoli to the bullpen. And Olivia wouldn't argue they were very good. She'd had more than one over the years too. But she still wouldn't call it a fruit or vegetable for this rather sparse birthday spread they were serving.

Brian had insisted they keep it simple – since it wasn't a party. It was a non-party party. He'd near outright banned her from buying anything beyond Emmy's requested menu. None of which Olivia thought really counted as food. She was really hoping that some of the people who came brought something to the 'not a party'.

Carisi was already gone though – he'd made his point and wasn't sticking around to hear any other opinions on the matter. Very him. But she could only comment so much because she was getting very close to doing about the same – ignoring Brian and just going and buy a fruit tray and some salads from the store.

Considering it was 'not a party' and that meant that most of the people there were over the age of 6. Actually nearly everyone they expected to be in attendance would be middle-aged. So she thought it would be nice to have something that the majority of the non-party-goers might actually eat even if it was their little girl's day.

Olivia was happy to let Emmy eat as many hot dogs and Cheetos as she wanted (OK, not quite as many as she wanted, because that would almost definitely end badly if she wasn't cut-off). But she'd prefer to not have to eat more than a single hot dog at this thing – sans Cheetos washed down with ice cream. She'd like to think that most of the grown-ups in attendance probably felt the same way.

"They do have wheat in them," Amanda said. "That's at least plant-based."

Olivia allowed a small amused noise at that effort as she went back to gathering her things for her escape. "I hope I can depend on you to bring something that maybe is actually a plant," she said.

"Ah, about that," Amanda said and nudged a bit more into the office. "I was actually coming in here to talk to you about that."

Olivia sighed at her. "Amanda …"

"She's coming!" Carisi called from out in the bullpen.

It was Amanda who sighed that time and stepped fully into the office, closing the door behind her.

"Amanda," Olivia pressed again as the door shut. "We're keeping this really small. It's just family and a few friends. It's adults. If you and your girls don't come –"

Amanda held up a hand to stop her. "I know," she said. "I know. I really do. I just think for everyone's sake – for Emmy's sake – it might be best, if me and the girls didn't make an appearance."

"She's so looking forward to showing the other kids – the 'little kids' – how to make slime," Olivia pleaded.

"I just … I don't want … me being there to … create a tension that might affect … anyone's enjoyment of Emmy's day."

"This is about Brian," Olivia put to her directly.

Amanda just exhaled and gave a little shrug. It was enough of a confirmation.

"Amanda, Brian will hardly register you're there. Or anyone is there. The man has decided that we need a barbecue for the hot dog menu at this party—"

Amanda stared at her in some sort of amused disbelief. "He realizes that the part of the versatile delicacy of hot dogs is that you can boil – or microwave – them in about … two minutes flat."

Olivia shook her head. "All I know is that there is giant box in my house that apparently contains a barbecue that he needs to put together before Sunday – because it will be 'easier' to grill the hot dogs."

"Ah …" Amanda allowed.

Because it was ridiculous. Olivia agreed. She'd discovered that you don't have to go to a car show room to see a bunch of men having their mid-life crisis. Apparently the grill aisle at the Home Depot when you were living in New York City provided just as much insight. And just as much over-compensation as some of these cars provided. If she hadn't been with Brian – and hadn't delivered some commentary – she was pretty sure they would've ended up with some sort of monstrosity that have more cooking space than their entire kitchen.

"Does he know how to barbecue after he puts it together …?" Amanda ventured.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Well, I've seen him ignite hot dogs and marshmallows over the camp fire for the kids. He's very good at blowing the flames out and convincing Benji and Emmy that the charred bits are the best part. But does he know how to barbecue? I don't know. I do know that I prefer my steak and chicken to not be flaming, black and crunchy."

Amanda allowed an amused sound. Olivia kept her eyes.

"And I also know that Brian's idea of spending money on himself is to have the occasional case of beer in the fridge," she shrugged. "So if he wants a grill for what we call a yard – fine. And, as for the timing of the purchase," Olivia said, "it's because he wants something to do, Amanda. He doesn't want to talk to anyone at the party. He didn't even want to have anyone over. So you don't have to worry. He's going to be burning our meal, such as it is. And when he's not doing that I can guarantee that all his attention will be on Emmy and Benji. He's not going to be … however you're worried he's going to be."

Amanda sighed at her. "We just had some words and I—"

"I know, Amanda," Olivia put to her. And she received a surprised look. Olivia tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and closed her bag. "Brian and I's communication is far from perfect – but I think we talk more, about more and are much closer than you think."

"I didn't mean to—" Amanda started again but Olivia held up a soft hand to stop her.

"I know," she allowed. "But Brian holds onto things. I think we both know some of the whys behind that. And some of the language you used with him …" Olivia exhaled. "It's going to take him time to get over it. If he ever does."

"I wasn't trying to create problems for … you," Amanda pressed out. "For you both. Or us."

Olivia made a little sound at that and looked at her. "Amanda, I know I talk about some of my family life at work. But I really don't share much of anything about Brian or my relationship with him. Stories about him buying a barbecue or his ever-expanding collection of T-shirts – that's not Brian and it's definitely not reflective of my relationship with him. And, I don't share a lot about that side of me or him – or us – here, at work, because I really don't want to hear what you think. Just like I didn't want to hear what Nick thought. And twenty-one years ago, I wish I hadn't heard what my partner then thought about how I should handle that relationship and myself.

"Maybe you think – or thought – you were somehow protecting me by saying some of the things you said to him. Or what Brian heard and took away from it. But, Amanda, I'm not helpless or trapped in this relationship. At all. Brian and I both know things are far from perfect between us. But how we deal with that and work on it – that's our business. And when I hear that you called him a 'coward' and you don't know 'what I see in him'—"

"I didn't mean," Amanda sputtered and mumbled. "He's not—"

"He's not," Olivia agreed firmly. "At all. But I think we both know he's likely felt that way since he was a little boy."

"I didn't know that when I said it," Amanda said apologetically.

Olivia gave a little shrug. "I know. But, it stung. Him. And me – because I hate to think other people I care about see him that way. Because 'coward' is not a word I would've ever applied to Brian. Cowboy, maybe. Coward – no. And as for 'what I see in him'? Amanda, I know that's a question that he asks himself every day. Again, for reasons that are his business and my business and – our very personal, private business. But I'll tell you this—"

"Liv, you really don't have to tell me anything. I'm sorry I said anything. I was out of line. I was only trying to-"

"You were out of line," Olivia agreed firmly. "But now, please, let me finish. I wasn't going to bring this up – since it was your conversation, between you and Brian. But since you've brought it up – let me finish. Let me say, what I've been wanting to say – but have been biting my tongue because: 1) It's none of your business; and 2) Brian hates me defending him, not matter how awful he is at defending himself."

"OK …," Amanda managed.

"The side of Brian you see is the cop. You may not like him as a cop. But this city needs all kinds of cops to do all kinds of jobs, Amanda. And Brian is a very good cop. That's what I believe. And it's also an outlet he needs – that has just happened to let him serve and protect a lot of people in situations that a lot of other cops wouldn't be signing up for. He's not perfect – but neither are you. No one is. But I don't just see the cop side of Brian, Amanda. And even if that was all I saw – I've seen the evolution of that cop over more than twenty years. I respect that cop – but what I see in that man is a really, really sweet guy."

She let that sit with Amanda. She wasn't making much eye contact and Olivia wasn't sure she entirely believed her.

"He always has been," Olivia pressed. "He's one of the good guys, Amanda. But it took me a long time to see that. But what I did see – when I did see it – was that when I needed someone – in ways I wasn't even ready to admit or accept that I needed – he showed up. And he just kept showing up – when he didn't have to and when lots of other people that I would've _so hoped_ would've showed up didn't and when I didn't make it remotely easy for him to keep showing up. He's always been kind to me – even when I didn't especially deserve it. He's always been very straightforward with me. And, Amanda, he may not excel at romantic gestures, but he does make me feel cared for and cared about. And taken care of – in ways I can't even begin to explain to you. As imperfect as our relationship is – I go home at the end of the day to my best friend, who's a wonderful, sacrificing father and partner. The man texted me thirty minutes ago to say he was leaving work early but would be home late because he's going to look for decorations Emmy wants for this non-party that I'm making him have, that we've been arguing about for weeks, that he doesn't even want to be at. He's not going to find narwhal balloons, Amanda. But he's trying – for me and for his little girl. And it's that. It's the little things. It's things like that. That's what I see in him. That's why I love him. And just wish more people – that I care about, that I consider family – would take the time to try to see those sides of him. He deserves that."

Olivia grabbed her coat from her coat rack and nudged by Amanda.

"Maybe if you come to the party, you'll get a small glimpse some of who he is – the Brian I know," she said. "If you don't come – he'll notice – and that will speak volumes to him too. But I understand if you don't. We'll still make some narwhal snot for Jesse …"

And she strides for the elevators. She'd said her bit. She didn't want either of them to say anything more.


	21. Queen Bee

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia allowed a quiet little smile as she sat waiting for her son to make his next move on the Connect 4 game they were in the middle of while she also listened to Emmy's excited babble at Brian off in the foyer. Their little girl was over and at him as soon as he walked in the door – like a shot. Up from the dining room table and over there. As per usual. And as per usual, Brian seemed genuinely unfazed by it.

Olivia actually knew he liked it. More than she did being barged as soon as she walked in the door. It was a love-hate thing for her. She usually preferred to at least get her coat off and maybe take a couple cleansing breathes before stepping into Mommy role. But she'd gotten a lot better at taking the time it took to get from the precinct over to Brooklyn to transition from work to home. To get more fully into her Mommy frame of mind and be ready for what might come flying at her that night.

Brian, though, never seemed to have that frazzled moment. She rarely heard him ask the kids to give him a minute or let him get in the door or let him take off his coat. He was usually just on. Either a testament to how laidback he could be when he wanted to be. Or how skilled he'd gotten over the years at compartmentalizing so much. Or wearing different masks in different situations – and moving through them seamlessly. Or more likely – honestly – he was probably just so happy to be home. He did say that often enough.

Though, Olivia was starting to suspect he liked it and needed that 'welcome home' greeting in different ways than he'd let on over the past many years as Daddy.

Brian really had this unconditional love from these two little people. Their kids were still young enough that they were super heroes – and not annoying, out-of-touch, troublesome, old, ancient parents. Yet. Even if they were far from the perfect parents – they still got so much love and so many cuddles and giggles from Benji and Emmy.

Olivia knew how much she loved that aspect of being a mom. How those hugs and kisses and giggles and smiles out of her kids more than made up for just how hard and exhausting it was being a parent nearly every day. The connection you feel to your kids – that bond, that love that's beyond description – was worth all the hard parts. But she also knew for Brian – now – it was a bit more.

For Brian, these kids of theirs meant he had two more people in his life who saw value in him. Who loved him. Who adored him.

It was a hard pedestal. But he'd worked hard to pull himself up onto it. And Olivia knew he worked just as hard to make sure he stayed on it – that he deserved to be there. And she'd have to hope for both of them – all of them – that as the kids aged and they dealt with new challenges … dyslexia, lupus, bullying … or even just the teen years … that the fall from that pedestal wouldn't be too far or too hard on its impact.

And speaking of impact – she also heard the telltale whap of Emmy's feet on the floor and she knew Brian had just done the twirl and flip maneuver that both the kids begged of him. And as soon as the feet impacted, there was the clomping of them heading back into their living space. The stomp, stomp, stomp of a low-speed little girl run (the kind Emmy did to try to avoid being told not to run in the house) while she pretended to huff and pant like the all of 35-feet from their entryway to the dinning room table was some kind of marathon.

"Hurry, Daddy," she whinnied out like she was entirely out of breath from that jog, as she crawled back up on her chair at the table with her and Benji.

"Coming," Brian called from back in the entry. He clearly hadn't gotten the chance to take off his coat and was doing it now.

"But I waaaaaannnna show you!" Emmy whined, overly dramatically flopping on the table.

Brian appeared and Olivia gave him a smile over her shoulder. He caught her eyes.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized.

"Don't need to apologize," she said.

He just made a sound and schlepped his gear bag off his shoulder. It thudded to the ground by the stairs to take up to the bedroom for the weekend. Olivia didn't know why he still bothered to drag the over-sized gym bag around with him now that he was usually sitting in his own office – the same as her. He didn't have the need to be kitted out or to have that level of necessities to throw into the back of a cruiser anymore. He even rarely bothered to change out from the shirt and tie he went to work in these days to the work-out gear or casual wear he hauled around with him. But he still seemed more comfortable lugging that impractical bag around with him rather than switching to some sort of "briefcase" or just … a messenger bag to bring his laptop and any files to-and-from work. She knew. She'd bought him once to encourage him to make the switch. She didn't think he'd even tried it. It had been buried at the back of their closet for nearly a year before she re-gifted it to Jack. She didn't think Brian even noticed or recognized the bag when Jack did actually start using it and it appeared in their house on a near weekly basis hauled around by their oldest.

She wasn't too sure what the subliminal messaging about the bag was. Likely a piece of his armor. Or he still had some sort of hang up that it'd only be a matter of time that she kicked him to the curb and he wanted to be packed and ready to go when he did. Though, she really just hoped it was years of habit from more than twenty-years on the job and having to regularly pull doubles or go UC on little notice. In those cases and situations it was nice to have some of the necessities with you.

He came over to where they were all seated, still toting a store bag with him. And she raised an eyebrow at him. She'd been getting some texts through the early-evening as he ran some of these self-assigned birthday errands and decoration hunt of his. But she hadn't been told there'd been a purchase that was being brought home that night.

"Who's turn is it?" he asked as he wandered over, leaning in to press a kiss against her temple.

Olivia just made a little gesture at Benji's fixed concentration on the playing space as he sought out his next move. It should be his last move – because Olivia was pretty sure she'd finally backed him into a corner that he didn't know how to resolve. It'd only taken about eight games to manage it. Both of their kids kicked her butt at Connect Four. It was rather humbling. It wasn't a game that should be that hard to win against grade-schoolers.

But then Brian gave his fingers a little snap. "Big Man," he said and then gestured at an open space on the board. The only open space that was going to open this game up to keep going – and likely ultimately win. Benji looked at his dad and then looked at where his finger was pointed and a slow smile spread across his face, as he reached to drop his token.

"Bri," Olivia gaped up at him. "C'mon. Are you kidding me?"

"You lose," Benji declared and reached to pull the tab to make all the tokens clatter to the table.

Brian only grinned at Olivia's annoyance and bent in again to peck another kiss against her lips that time. "Would've shown you the check-mate too," he muttered and then seemed to taste her.

"Stop being icky goss and look," Emmy demanded again.

"Taste good …" he mumbled at Olivia and then scanned the table to spot the strawberries, blueberries and grapes she had out for the kids to pick on in their after-school snack. He snagged a couple of the grapes and moved down the table a bit towards where Emmy was set up. "OK, let's see this thing," he allowed, popping a grape into his mouth.

"Wanna play again?" Benji asked, having sorted the red and black tiles and again shoved the red over to her side of the table.

Olivia shoved them back toward the center. "I think losing eight times in a row is enough for me," she said.

"Nine," Benji provided. "And no sore losers, Mom."

She rolled her eyes a bit and passively retrieved the chips. She absently dropped one into the game board. She knew she got to go first – losers go first, her son declared. Not that the first-move advantage had been helping her at all in this game. She actually suspected it was likely a disadvantage.

"See," Emmy said, sweeping her arms over their latest art effort. "Tah-Dah!"

Olivia watched Brian's face as he examined the mangled paper mache monstrosity that was drying at the end of the table. Olivia could tell he was really trying hard not to laugh. But the way a smile was pulling at his cheeks was really betraying his amusement.

"That's a really great …"

"Naaaaaaaar," Emily started.

"Whaaaaal," Benji throw his head back in a howl.

"Naaaaaaar, naaaaar, naaaar," Emily yowled again.

"Whal," Benji finished for her.

Because apparently her children had decided that narwhals likely sat on rocks like seals and howled at the moon like wolves. She wasn't sure how they'd come to this conclusion – that they had not yet been able to support via any YouTube videos, Googling or numerous sea life books checked out from the library. But this was what had been explained to her. And for the better part of three months – of this narwhal phase (hopefully a phase) – she'd gotten to listen to the naaaaar, naaar, naaaaar whaaaaaal wail bounced back-and-forth between her two kids. Her and Brian maybe – occasionally – got in on it that action. Because it was pretty funny. It was … joyful … in its own way.

"Jep, you missed it, Daddy," Emmy said gazing proudly at her – their – creation.

"Darn, missed paper mache," Brian said with deep sarcasm that Emmy hadn't quite learned to pick up on yet – because she was pretty convinced that Daddy loved everything she did (which she was right to a point). In reality, Brian despised paper mache. His sticky, gooey, caked, dried ick part of his brain more than kicked in and he couldn't stand touching the stuff. He usually he supervised to make sure it didn't end up over their entire house when the kids made their creations.

It looked like Olivia hadn't done as good of job at that, because Brian smoothed at their little girl's frizzy mess of hair. Then picked at it. He'd likely spotted some gluey-floury paste that she'd managed to smear in their when she'd refused to let Olivia tie back her hair or put on one of her headbands. Because she was in full-on Emmy mode that evening. On a mission – and no one better get in her way.

"Jah," Emmy said. "But you can help paint tomorrow, Daddy."

"Fantastic," Brian muttered and moved around the table, stopping at Benji and leaning down to press a linger kiss into the top of his head and feeling at his forehead. They shared a look as he did – but they'd already had back-and-forth about this since she'd been home with the kids. Her read was that Benji was doing really well. He looked more than a little washed out but he seemed more himself.

Benji, though, hardly acknowledged his dad's affections. He was set on the game again. Olivia could already tell he was going to win. But she kept dropping her tiles as she turn came around. Though, she was pretty sure she was going to cut him off at ten wins in a row.

"So is it a piñata for your party?" Brian asked, as he pulled up his chair and sat down next to Olivia.

"It was supposed to be," Olivia said.

"Jah," Emmy allowed. "But, Daddy you're supposta save da whales not hurt 'em."

"Yea," Benji agreed. "If it's a piñata it'd be like beating a baby seal with a club."

Brian made a small amused noise and shared a look at Olivia. That one it felt like they were giving each other more and more as they got to learn more and more about these little people they called theirs. Just who they were and where they came from and how they ended up with them – and the things that came out of their mouths – sometimes it was beyond perplexing. Hard to believe that these kids were the ones that life and God (if there was one) and the universe decided were destined to be in their lives.

"So, Emmy thinks maybe the narwhal should just be a decoration for the party," Olivia provided.

"Ah," Brian allowed and then finally reached inside the bag he'd been toting with him. "Speaking of party decorations." He pulled out some cake plates and flashed them at her.

Olivia's mouth dropped into a gape again and she grabbed them from him. They were decorated with a smiling blue narwhal floating under the sea with his friend the squid, the clown fish and the starfish.

"Where'd you find them?" Olivia asked – nearly demanded.

"Baby shower clearance rack," Brian said. "Apparently nothing said 'you're having a baby' like a narwhal – last season."

Olivia allowed a quiet laugh and then held the plates down the table for their daughter to see. "Emmy, look," she said. "Daddy, our super hero."

Their little girl's eyes brightened. "Narwhal!" she said and came over to gaze at the plate and then dig at the bag. "What else, Daddy?"

Brian hummed and reached around her rummaging in his lap, pulling some of the items for her. He dropped some napkins on the table with the same image and some solid baby blue plates, presumably to try to make the clean-up as painless as possible.

"Stickers," Emmy cheered as she pulled her hands out from around her Daddy's. She started picking at the plastic keeping the roll tight but Brian gently took them away from her.

"Those are for Sunday, Em," he told her. Because they both knew the outcome of their kids having access to stickers – they'd be plastered all over them like tattoos and none would be left for anyone else coming the party.

Emily huffed but dove back into the bag and pulled out metallic sparkly party hats. "Narwhal horns!" she cheered.

Brian and Olivia shared another look – this one even more amused.

"OK, if you say so," Brian muttered.

Olivia reached and retrieved that package from Emmy – because she knew those would be turned into an immediate dress-up accessory if they didn't put a stop to it too.

Emmy looked at Brian. "No balloons, Daddy?"

He bent and put a kiss against her forehead. "There will be balloons by your party," he assured. Olivia already knew he'd managed to find a balloon. She didn't know how many stores he'd called to track one down – but there would be a helium narwhal at the party. He'd just already texted her basically asking permission to spend the money on delivery so they didn't have to add going and picking up the balloon bouquet to their to-do list over the weekend.

"Dack's bringing Pin The Horn On the Narwhal," Emmy provided.

"Mmm," Brian acknowledged and looked at Olivia. "Think there's potential placement issues with that game that could result in a very horny narwhal."

Olivia cocked her head at him. "I've reminded Jack to take the height of the kids and the positioning of the whale into consideration when he's drawing this thing," she said.

Brian shook his head. "OK. It'll be interesting to see the deliverables."

"Little Duck, show Daddy what you're working on for the other kids," she said.

Emmy pranced back around to her side of the table that was littered with crayons and shoved a colored sheet over to Brian. He picked it up and again his eyes laughed. It was a coloring sheet print out with all the basic facts about narwhals. Like that their horns were teeth and they lived in the Arctic and that they were once thought to be unicorns.

"'Cuz lots of people think narwhals are myths since they unicorns of the sea. And there will be LOOOOOOOTTTS of little kids. So they don't know. But now they can know. But their Mommy or Daddy will have to read it to them likely. But then they know."

"Mmm," Brian allowed and handed it back to their little girl while Olivia held her hand over her mouth to try to keep from laughing. This was what her past few hours with the kids had looked like. It was what a lot of hours with the kids looked like lately – on their good days. Trying not to laugh at how their minds worked. But being so utterly in love with how their minds worked. "That's real thoughtful, Em."

"Tell Daddy the other information sheet you think we should have for the little kids," Olivia said over the top of her hand.

"Polymers," Emmy said.

Brian stared at their laughter. "Polymers …?" he said flatly – you could just tell he wasn't sure he should ask much more.

"Jah," Emmy said and went back to scribbling on her latest narwhal info sheet. "'Cuz slime is a polymer. So they know it is a liquid and a soild and sorta like jello cuz it's a long chain of molecules that slip and slide passed each other. The little kids likely don't know."

Brian scrubbed at his one eye – the way he did when Olivia knew he was slightly overwhelmed by some of the things that came out of their little girls mouth. The stuff that just betrayed how stupid smart she was. And how neither of them were entirely sure how to deal with that – and Brian felt particularly unqualified to deal with that kind of book smarts, intelligence at times too.

"Yea, Em. Likely right. The little kids probably don't know all that."

"Jah," Emmy said. "But Mommy couldn't find da info card on Google like the narwhal one. So she says I'll just hafta tell them when we're makin the slime."

"Mmm …," Brian acknowledged and stared at Olivia.

"I also couldn't figure out how to get the computer to print out the narwhal snot labels that Jack designed for the party," Olivia said then reached to give his hand a squeeze. "And since I know how much you love swearing at the printer for me, I was hoping you could take a look at it later tonight."

He grunted – more groaned – and reached to retrieve another berry from the plate. He was definitely cleaning up the ones the kids hadn't touched. Likely betrayed a busy, long day. He probably hadn't found time to eat. Though, Brian was definitely a grazer – especially when he came in from the job.

"My teacher thought I was sayin' your fav-it swear today, Daddy," Emmy said, still coloring away. "And I got in big trouble."

"What's my favorite swear?" Brian squinted at Olivia, as she dropped her next play into Connect Four.

She gave him a direct look and raised at an eyebrow at him again. Did he really need to ask.

"Oh," he allowed and then shook his head and looked at their daughter and back to her. "What was she saying? She was saying that?"

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "Emily, tell your—"

"She said Facked," Benji interjected. "Like ten billion times."

Brian made a little unimpressed sound down in his throat and looked at their little girl. "Emily," he said flatly – but there was a sternness to it.

"What?" she said, looking at him with those innocent eyes.

"Tell Daddy what you think you were saying," Olivia pressed.

Emmy let out a huff and colored some more. "It a new name for Dack," she said.

Brian shook his head and squinted at Olivia again. "What?"

Olivia gestured back to Emily. "Ask your daughter."

"Emily," he pressed at her more firmly.

Their daughter made an annoyed noise. "Dack a fox but we also ducks and his name is Dack. So fox-Dack-duck. Fack. It like quack but it the sound a fox-Dack-duck make. So Facked. Fack-Fack-Fack."

Brian looked at Olivia and mouthed silently. "Not inaccurate …" She batted his elbow.

"But teacher got mad when I tellin kids my big brother's facked," Emmy said.

And a real amused noise escaped Brian's throat and he struggled to stop. Olivia shot soft daggers his way.

"OK, Emily," Olivia said with some warning. "You told Daddy the reasoning of your new word. And now we're going back to you aren't using this nickname. Not at home and not at school."

"It's just Dack."

"It sounds too much like a swear," Benji said. "You're gonna get a consequence if you keep using it."

Emmy gave him a little rumbling growl.

"Well," Benji muttered. "That's what Mommy said."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and gazed at Brian's amused face. At least he looked happy. She liked when he smiled. When he smiled at her. Smiled at their kids. It made her feel like some of her own weight was lifting off her shoulders – and it made her feel like some of his load was lightening too. There was still some happiness and joy in him – even if he was a little broken. He could still feel those things.

"So picking them up from school today was fun …," Olivia provided.

Brian grinned a little. "What about you Big Man? Anything exciting to report?"

"No," Benji muttered.

"Well, the Fire Museum's Egg Hunt tickets went on sale," Olivia provided. "But Benji's informed me he thinks he's too old for that."

"But I'm not too old!" Emmy interjected.

Brian gave Olivia a look. "He's not too old," she mouthed. "It's up to twelve."

"You don't want to go, Big Man?" Brian said. Benji just shrugged at him. "Really?"

"It's for little kids," Benji mumbled. "Last year it was all princesses in the party room after the hunt!"

"I think that's called Easter Finery," Brian said flatly. It got another shrug. "Because I thought the whole point of this egg hunt was to have an excuse to get to go to the museum and climb on the rigs. Get some of the candy that me and your Mom would never buy you."

"Daddy, I decide that I want a rice krispie cake with sharks and fish for my birthday," Emmy said. "It hasta be blue. Like da ocean."

"And this happened," Olivia said with a gesture down the table at their daughter.

"Em, you said you only wanted ice cream for your birthday," Brian told her firmly.

"Jah, but Mommy said I needed to have cake," Emmy countered. "And cake is gross."

"Cake is not gross," Benji eyed her. "Everyone likes cake – buuuut you."

"No. It gross. So I have rice krispy cake cuz rice krispie squares are good. So we call it a cake. But it hasta be blue. With sharks and fish."

"Don't think that's going to happen, Em," Brian told her flatly – and firmly. "I stopped and ordered your ice cream cake on the way home. It's a done deal."

"I don't like cake!" she shot her eyes at him.

He stared right back. "It is ice cream put in a cake pan shaped like a whale, Emily. It is called an ice cream cake. And it's what you asked for. And it's ordered. End of story."

"You sure it's not a cake?" she kept her eyes on him like they were in some kind of bull match.

"It is ice cream shaped like a whale," Brian pressed at her firmly again.

"Coc-late?"

"Yes," he allowed. "It is chocolate ice cream."

"A narwhal?" Emily pressed.

"Emily, don't try to play Queen Bee with him." There was warning that time.

And Emmy caught that and sank back a little. "But I really want narwhal ice cream, Daddy …"

"Emily, why don't you let there be a few surprises for your party, OK?" Olivia said a bit more gently. The truth was they already had ice cream cones in the cupboard to embed on Fudgie's head when he arrived so their little girl had a narwhal. She was going to be so glad when this narwhal thing was passé – because right now it was a little much. All narwhal all the time.

Emmy sulked a bit and avoided eye contact, scribbling firmly with her crayons.

"Are we really not having cake?" Benji asked.

Olivia gave him a look. "Deescalating the conversation," she told him. "New topic."

He gave her a huff too and dropped another chip into the game board. He'd stopped waiting for her to play at this point. He was just making a random pattern with the new color choices.

Her and Brian gazed at each other for a long beat. She knew he was measuring where she was at and how she was feeling. Getting a read on her take on where the kids were at and what kind of behavior she'd dealt with that evening. If that had just been a blip in their daughter being … a little bossy … at times, which Olivia knew she'd likely taught her too well. She'd learned to watch how she talked to Brian around their little girl – or anyone – so that their daughter didn't grow up thinking that she should always be barking orders at everyone and expecting them to jump or bend to her every command.

"We've had a good afternoon," Olivia provided him.

Brian gave a little nod and gazed across the table at Benji. "How you feeling, Ben?" Another shrug. "Not so hot?"

"I dunno …"

Olivia reached and ruffled at his bangs a bit. "Benji finished his homework worksheet right away when he came in," she said. "And we just have to read a few pages this weekend in his novel."

Benji didn't jump in and add anymore, though. He just kept dropping the tiles into the game board and Olivia could feel Brian still looking at their son and weighing him. He was likely thinking they should backtrack on what they'd talked about for their Friday Family Date Night. Thinking that Benji wasn't well enough and they should just stay in. But she thought they could all do with getting out for a bit rather than ordering pizza and battening down in front of the TV.

"So, Brian … what was it that you were telling me about last night …?" she pressed and gave a little nod at their son and then nodded at him too. Benji needed this. And it'd distract Emmy from her all-encompassing narwhal planning too.

"Yea, you know those Lego mini builds the stores host," Brian managed after another prolonged beat of him still staring at Benji.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and looked at Benji too. He wasn't reacting yet. "Right," she allowed. "I think I remember hearing about them. But we've never gotten out to one."

"Well, I guess—" Brian started but Benji cut him off.

"We won't," Benji said and then gave them a look. "You hafta like apply to do it and like basically they are done. Now or soon. I dunno. Or like they aren't free anymore. I dunno. Something like that. Bobby had his birthday party there. Like … I dunno … every year. He talks about it all the time. He's a VIP and a Lego Club member and they do all kinds of free stuff."

"Ah …," Olivia said and looked at Brian.

"Mmm …," Brian provided and rubbed at his own eye. "Good to know, Ben." Ben shrugged. "Think I might've heard something about the whole mini build thing ending too. Think I also remember seeing a couple id-term reports come home last week that I was pretty happy with."

"I think I remember that too," Olivia said. "And I think I remember sitting with Daddy and going to the Lego site and—"

Benji perked up. "You signed us up?"

Brian looked at Olivia. "Did we remember click the submit button? When we filled out that form?"

She cocked her head. "I'm not sure. Did we?"

"Mmm …," Brian provided.

"Guys …" Benji signed at him.

Emmy looked over. "Are we goin to the Lego Store?"

"Are we going to the Lego Store?" Brian put to the two kids.

"Yes," Benji pressed. "Now?"

"Mmm …," Olivia glanced at the clock on her phone. "Actually first we're going to S'Mac," she said and bent to press a loud smack against the side of Benji's head, "to have dinner with Jack."

"We're gonna get Facked!" Emmy cheered. "And go to the Lego Store!"

And it got an amused noise but head shakes from both her parents.

Benji looked between the three of them. "Is her gonna get a consequence? 'Cuz I could like … use her allowance consequence at the Lego Store … maybe?"

That got another amused sound out of Brian and he reached and scruffed at their son's hair. But it just as suddenly stopped and he pulled his hand away, giving Olivia a long – complete lacking in joy – look. She saw the few more strands between his fingers as he hand came back into his lap.

And she stopped it – before any of them could dwell on it. Before Benji noticed it. She nudged at Benji's chair and nodded at Emmy. "OK, let's clean up," she said and gave Brian a look. "Go change," she told him gently. "We've got fun, happy family plans …"

The fun, happy family they tried so hard to be. But it could be so hard. Even on the good days.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Yesterday's chapter was posted in under 24-hours turnaround. So it didn't bump or have a date change. You might want to check to make sure you saw it.**

**Reader reviews are always much appreciated. Thanks for reading and commenting.**


	22. Thank Yous

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Brian pulled his eyes away from his fixed examination of Big Man's latest Lego creation as he heard Liv coming back down the stairs. She'd taken her turn to go up and play Bad Cop that night. Kids really weren't settling at all. All worked up from their night out and chattery about Sunday's non-party party. They seemed to think this thing was going to be a whole lot more thrilling than it likely was. At least from his perspective.

From his perspective the whole kids sharing a room thing was kind of a mixed bag. It lead to some cute moments. The kids could be really good at comforting each other. And, Cassidy knew that both him and Liv had had moments growing up where they really wished they'd had a sibling. So it was nice to see that the kids were close. That they had someone to help them get through the crap. Hopefully that continued as they grew up and worked their way through life too. But it also meant they kind of fed off each other sometimes. One annoying the other and vice versa. Arguments about the stupidest shit. Fucking blankets hanging down the wrong way into their space. Who left a dirty sock where. The grossness of underwear getting left on the floor. Who should be picking up and cleaning up what. What toy belonged to who in any particular moment. And if one of them wasn't sleeping – it usually meant the other wasn't too.

At least it meant that they now had a dedicated room to toss all the kids' crap in and pretend like their whole house didn't look like some sort of special education daycare had exploded in it. Though, they had yet to see how well that was going to work. It sure felt like even though they'd taken the time to drag all the toys that weren't school or craft supplies upstairs – they seemed to be reappearing every single fucking day. And so far every night that week Brian and/or Liv had still trailed through the living space after the kids were upstairs tossing their abandoned crap into on of the toy shelves bins.

And the hope that moving the futon into Em's old room would mean that Jack would have somewhere to sleep that wasn't the couch when he decided to crash there? Brian was pretty sure that was going to be dreaming in Technicolor too. Was actually pretty damn sure that a good chunk of the reason that Jack ever came over was to claim a spot on the couch and to take over the TV for whatever it was he decided he wanted to watch on cable or the big screen. The other reason he came over was presumably to treat their fridge like his personal grocer. Twenty-five and still fucking eating them out of house and home. So Brian really doubted that the kid – the adult, grown-man kid – was going to think that having a room he could close the door to and sleep was going to be a great place to retreat to in the evenings he was there. He'd still be sleeping on the sofa. No doubt.

Brian did a final adjustment of the wings on Ben's red Lego dragon, as Liv gave him a little smile and curled back up on the couch next to him. He stretched his arm to put it back on the bookshelf where it'd been left. Though, he didn't doubt Ben was still going to be able to tell in the morning that he'd touched it and have some kind of commentary. Kid was still super possessive about his toys – things. And still sort of understood why. But had made it an interesting challenge in trying to teach the whole sharing thing when a second kid got added to the equation.

"I think you're more taken with that thing than him," Liv murmured against his chest.

He shrugged a little as he wrapped his one arm around her and stared at the dragon again. Ben was still pretty obsessed with dragons. His first toy ever from Liv and first toy the kid seemed to have any memory of. Flame – now entirely mangled and disgusting – still was a bedfellow of the kid. Still got clutched onto near every night even though Big Man had mostly graduated to the Ninjago dragon Lego sets lately.

They had a bit of a collection going. Though, Brian usually only got to look at the end products and watch the build in progress the past couple years. Big Man was more than capable enough of breezing through the instructions and putting together the things. That had blown at Christmas when the kiddo's Santa gift had been this pretty incredible mech assault dragon. Brian had been pretty excited by that purchase. Had really looked forward to Ben opening it. And the reaction had still been great. But he definitely didn't get to help much with the build. Big Man was growing up. Thought there was only about two or three steps in the guide that had thrown him for a loop that he'd come over seeking a second opinion on.

Knew Ben likely would've preferred to get another Ninjago. But the fifteen bucks each they'd coughed up in surprise Lego spending money for the kids definitely hardly put a dent in those sets. Big Man had done a lot of humming and hahing before settling on this little Creator 3-in-1 compromise. Likely should've been an easy build for him but all the articulated bits seemed to be throwing him for a loop. He was likely just way overtired after the kind of week he'd been through. But the kid was bound and determined the set was going to get built that night. So it did. Just meant that Cassidy got to help out a lot more than he had for quite a while with that kiddo.

"Just a neat build," he muttered back to Liv. "They asleep?"

It was a stupid question. He knew they wouldn't be. Not that quick. Though, they must've at least quieted down some for Liv to be back downstairs. He hadn't heard them for a couple minutes at least before she reappeared. Last thing he had heard was her wearing the real Mom Tone. The 'you're about ten seconds away from being in real shit' tone. The kids had definitely learned they were nearing the end of their rope when they got that voice from her. And, fuck, if she actually did start vocally doing the countdown – that made silence fall upon the house real quick.

She shook her head against him. "Not yet. Getting there. Emmy's still wound up," she said. "And Benji is exhausted and so ready to sleep. So they're aggravating each other."

He rested his cheek on the crown of her head. "Should I go split them up?"

Her head shook again. "Give them a few minutes. I think I terrified them into submission. Stood outside the door after. I could still hear them moving but hopefully the bickering is done."

Brian rubbed at his eye. "OK. But think if she's still working at keeping him up, I'll go move Ben to our bed. He's done. Don't want the weekend to be an epic fail. Need to make sure he rests."

She hummed some kind of acknowledgement. And then shifted against him, pulling her phone out and handing it to him with something on the screen.

"What's this?" he stared at it.

"His 10-day blood work results," she said. "They just came into his chart."

Brian stared at it some more and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He was tired too. "I don't know what I'm looking at, Liv."

She made a small sound and took the phone back from him. She stared at it too. "There's a lot flagged as low."

He kept squeezing. "I thought we expected low. Isn't it some kind of baseline for deciding next month's dose?"

She shook her head against him. "I guess I didn't realize that every result would come back flagged," she mumbled.

He held her, pressed a kiss against her forehead and tugged the phone out of her, setting it off out of her reach from the moment. "Sure if there was something the doctors didn't expect, they'd have us on the line."

She settled against him but he could feel her staring at where he'd set the phone next to the dragon on the bookshelf. He could feel her still processing those numbers and likely almost willing the phone to ring now. Or wishing she could somehow Bluetooth connect to it or something and manage to call up some one over at NYU Children's right then get to some kind of answers that they already knew they didn't really have.

"Liv," he muttered into her hair. "We've got to remember he's been feeling like shit for a while. Now we just know why he's feeling like shit. He's on treatment. He's goin' to start feeling better. We just have to go through some worse first before we see that bounce. Don't let yourself get worked up about some numbers on a screen that really don't mean shit to us."

"It's tearing at you too, Bri …" she mumbled.

He inwardly sighed. But knew she could probably feel it against him – if not hear it. "I know …" he admitted.

But he felt her smile a bit. "He was playing at our heartstrings tonight, though …," she said. "That fire truck."

"Ladder truck," Brian corrected. "Nice rig. Nice price tag on it too."

"I noticed that," she conceded.

"Still be there when his birthday or Christmas rolls around …," Brian allowed.

"I'm not spending a hundred dollars on a Lego set no matter how nice it is," Liv muttered.

"Right," Brian said into her hair. "Until he works those puppy dog eyes on you."

He felt her smile again. "He's got beautiful eyes," she whispered. Real sad, though. "But I think he was going them more on you than me tonight. You're getting soft, Bri. That fifteen bucks sure bought us a lot of extra time in the store."

He rubbed at his eyes. The kids were so indecisive. Handing them the fifteen dollar gift cards after they'd finished the free little mini build they'd done had bought them another like hour in the store. Kids spent most of their time staring at the hundreds of dollar mega sets put together and on-display trying to feed into impulse buys. Or Mannhattanites that could afford to sway to their kids every whining whim. That wasn't them. Though, looking at the sets had been fun. Even the ones still in the boxes. Fun to see what the kids gravitated towards. Evolving interests. But it'd definitely reached the point of enough is enough. And he'd put down the gauntlet and told them to shit or get off the pot.

Pick something or time to go home. Fifteen bucks was more than enough to cover off a nice little set of some Unicorn Puppy or cop cruiser. Or in his kid's case – it'd ultimately been two 3-in-1 sets, which he actually thought was damn good value and money sense from the kiddos. Shark for Em, of course (really doubted it'd ever make it into the squid or monstrous fish – that she'd definitely told him the name of but he couldn't fucking remember all the National Geographic Our Planet shit she spouted half the time). And the dragon slash spider slash troll for Ben.

He'd pretty much backed them into the corner with picking something, though. Told them if they didn't they were going to have to wait until their next visit to the store – and who fucking knew when that would be. That'd bought that like it'd be ages. Even though, they made it over there often enough with still working in Midtown and having Jack in the area. Something to do. Technically free – or at least cheap – by New York standards.

"Yea, well, still cheaper than taking them to the movies and least we've got something to show for it."

"More Lego to step on," she said.

"Says the woman who went sneaking around buying the Easter sets," he said.

He felt her smile again. "You saw that?"

"UC was never really your strong point."

"Thanks, Bri …," she muttered.

He shrugged. "Honesty. Right?"

She gave him a little bat. But he only smiled a little into her hair.

"Did the kids see?" she asked.

"Nah," he said. "I put up a road block and all kinds of distractions after I saw you in the line."

"It was buy one, get one 20 per cent off ..."

"Such a steal ..." he mouthed.

"Bigger steal than spending that money on chocolate," she muttered. "And the sugar tantrums that ensue."

"Fair point," he allowed.

"I can't believe Benji doesn't want to do the Fire Museum's Egg Hunt this year," she said.

"Just get the tickets. They sell out. Don't need you badging some fall-down drunk probbie again with drunk and disorderly to get them."

She smiled again. "It was extenuating circumstances," she said. "And my intervening saved him from himself."

"Right, and saved us from an Easter weekend meltdown …"

She shrugged. "That might've just been a fringe benefit." She was quiet. "We should likely wait to bother getting them until we decide what we're doing that weekend anyways."

"Yea, well, I really doubt we're going to decide what we're doing until we – or the docs - decide how Ben did this treatment round and then get the date for the next dose. It's likely going to end up falling close."

She hummed quiet acknowledgement at that.

"I'm worried about that memo," she said. "My job. Maybe I'll be out of a job by Easter. Never-ending spring 'vacation'."

"Fuck that. Fuck Dodds," Brian said. "If he tries anything, the union will be all over his ass."

"It might just be my rank," she said. "Demoted."

"That will still be a fight with the lieutenant's union," he said. "And they aren't goin'—"

"Bri, we both know I've made my own shitty decisions and had enough rogue moments that run counter to the chain of command."

"Fin said he had your back. Dodds said the memo never left his desk. Let's not add to our fucking heap until we've got reason to," he pressed into the top of her head.

They sat. Staring at nothing. Obviously thinking about way too much – that they didn't want to think about. Likely both still listening for any noise coming from upstairs. Seemed like the kids had settled. Hopefully they were almost asleep.

"You want to Netflix and chill?" he mumbled at her, reaching for the remote on the armrest next to him. He'd turned off the TV when she'd gone upstairs to hear the on-goings up there.

She made a slightly amused sound. "Only if the chill part is literal. After that dinner it's not going to be anything else."

He smiled into her hair and stroked it. "What? That meal wasn't a guaranteed lay?"

"After eating that much mac and cheese? I think you're looking at a drought of at least a few days, Bri. It's like a brick in my stomach."

He reached and hiked up his tshirt to display his bloated, distended belly. "Look at this."

He felt her eyes flick open and then a mildly grossed out noise come out of her and she reached and pulled the material back down. "No one wants to look at that."

"Didn't you sign on to look at that?" he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"Mmm," she muttered and her eyes shut again. "I think I signed on to take care of you – as much as you ever let me. So, again, Bri – you should really ask your doctor about getting checked for lactose intolerance. I don't know why you do that to yourself. It looks so uncomfortable."

"It was worth it," he muttered. Though, she was right. The Cajun mac and cheese he'd "shared" with Big Man had pretty much been a heart-attack in a skillet. There'd definitely been some indigestion and heartburn and this bloating since the meal. But they only ate there like maybe twice a year. So wasn't too hung up on Liv's commentary on his food choice.

"We'll see if that's what you're saying tomorrow when that mess starts actually managing to move through your system."

He allowed an amused noise. She was right. It was likely going to burn as much coming out as it had going in. Feel the burn. Though, they had some plans and some shit they needed to get done tomorrow. He didn't want to spend the date on a date with the can.

And it was quiet again. He still flipped the TV on and started scrolling through movie options. He knew she wouldn't want to stare at sports. But she also clearly wasn't ready to just call it a night yet. He wasn't either. He never was lately. It was hard to turn-off. And when his body did let him sleep he was waking up from these vivid, shitty dreams that just felt so real. So his mind wasn't even turning off - or knowing how to process any of this - in his sleep either.

"New Jumanji?" he suggested. "Pre-watch before letting the kids?"

He didn't know why he suggested that. This was PG. They let Ben and Em watch all the super hero movies and Transformer movies and Ninja Turtle movies - all that likely ran counter to Liv's sensibilities and probably contained more than a few jokes, innudeno and violence that they should skip out on. But he just didn't feel like watching anything heavy. And she always picked super heavy or super artsy or really fucking old crap that he could hardly sit through.

She squinted at the screen. "No," she put flatly. No surprise there. Though, he would've guessed that it would've ranked as cartoon and Disney-esque enough that she might've gone for it. She actually likely would sit through it. Just not with him. With Em and Ben, if that ended up being their weekend movie pick in the near future.

"Mindless is good for distraction," he tried.

He didn't want to get involved in some TV series. They'd been working on binging some really depressing shit since neither of them was sleeping. It was amazing how much TV you could plough through when you took sleeping off the table. He was almost caught up on what some of the shit was that his underlings went on about at the office. Not that he thought that a lot of this shit was anything worth wasting tax dollars jabbering about. Most of it he didn't quite get. But clearly wasn't bored enough by it that it knocked him out.

"Just put on your basketball, Bri. I don't care."

Instead he just turned the TV back off and held her again. He let his fingers play against her shoulder. He could feel her fatigue and sadness. The worry was just coming off her in waves. She'd put on a good face that night for the kids. But they were upstairs in bed now - and he could tell she needed, deserved, something from him. But he just felt like - as usual - he was falling short in delivering on that.

Sometimes he didn't know what to say or do. Didn't know what she wanted from him or needed from him. Even though he so fucking wanted to help. But he also tried so hard to respect her save and boundaries and opinions. But sometimes doing that just made him feel like he was failing her too. Or just like a dunce. Because what kind of man doesn't know how to support - to help, to make shit better - for his woman. For his kids. For his family. It made him just feel like he didn't know how to take care of any of them.

That was hard. Especially right now. With Ben. He felt helpless. Revisiting all this shit from his past and trying to figure out how to operate around it now that this giant spotlight had be cast on it in his present was making him feel helpless enough. But now he had his little boy - his own little boy - that he'd always been so convinced that if - when - he was a dad, he'd do so much fucking better just by being there. That he'd protect him from all this shit in life. And instead life came and threw this fucking curve ball at them that had him wandering around feeling like he'd gotten a debilitating concussion and not just this fucking black eye he'd been wearing his whole life.

"What can I do to help you shut off?" he whispered to her.

She shook her head a bit against him. "I don't know."

He stroked her hair. "You wanna talk about any of it?"

"I don't know," she said again.

"OK," he mouthed into her hair. Sometimes he wondered if he should press more. But in the past that always bit him in the ass. "How'd you feel about seeing about getting him a buzz cut?" he tried himself and she stared up at him. He brushed at his forehead. "I don't think I can do the whole watching his hair fall out thing, Liv."

He saw her eyes flicker - but she looked away. And she didn't answer. Only she did with: "Benji hardly ate," she said after a long beat. That was something, he guessed. At least an idea of where her head was at. But he kind of already knew that's where her head was generally at. Same as his. That this was eating them apart.

"He ate, Liv. And Jack ate more than enough for all of us," Brian said. It'd bordered on disgusting. That kid still ate like he was starved. He was going to pay for that when his metabolism started to slow down now that he was into his mid-twenties. Wasn't going to get away with that kind of diet too much longer and be able to still look like a show-horse. "He won't getting laid tonight either, if that's what he was taking off for. Might be the end of things if he goes for it."

There wasn't an immediate reaction. A long silence.

And then: "He still didn't say anything to me about any of that," Olivia whispered.

"Sorry," he said into her hair. He hadn't meant to pick at a wound. "He's likely still just working on figuring it out. Not worth talking about if it ends up being nothing."

"I don't think any kind of relationships are 'nothing' with Jack …"

"Yea …," he allowed. He got that. He'd been there. Made him a little sad for the kid - because in a lot of ways, he didn't think him and Jack were so different. And he knew the kid likely had a long road ahead of him. A rough road.

"Do you think he's capable of a normal relationship?" she mumbled.

Brian thread his fingers through her hair. More and more. Again and again. "What's 'normal'?" he finally asked.

Because any other answer to that seemed like too much. Like it'd say too much about him. Or them. Because was their relationship 'normal'? They weren't. He didn't think. They never had been. Their past baggage skewed how they related to each other, how they talked to each other. Their sex life. It always would to a point. They'd just normalized it within their normal. That didn't make any of it normal. He'd like to think that most people's relationships weren't as hard or as complicated or just as fucking confusing as theirs. But most relationships seemed kind of fucked in their own special ways. So maybe they really were normal to a point.

"Good question …" she allowed. And it sat there for a while. "Did he leave you with any impression on when he's planning on appearing tomorrow?"

"Likely when he manages to digest what he ate and decides he's hungry again," Brian muttered. He felt her smile a bit. "More likely dependant on how his hook-up goes tonight ..."

"I wish he wasn't doing that. Hook-ups."

Brian exhaled. "I don't think he is."

She rubbed her cheek against his chest. "Bri, as scary of a thought as it is - he's getting close to the age we were. And what were we doing ..."

"Pretty sure we were going at things pretty differently from each other - and coping with life and that age-and-stage way differently from how Jack's doing it, Liv," he muttered.

"I don't know. Were we really?" she muttered.

"Seriously, Liv. He only said the one thing the once to me. He's seeing someone. I did not get the impression he's not bouncing around like some kind of garbage dick. He's got too much baggage and too much sense. He's not like that. You know that. He'd probably be here all the time, a fucking basket case if he was trying to relate and interact with women like that."

"I just don't want to see him with his heart that broken again," she said.

"Yea, well, we all get our hearts broken some along the way …" Brian said.

He felt her frown against him. It was a comment on her - and their past. They both knew it. But it wasn't. It was a long time ago. They each had to go through their own things and their own life and have their own careers to get to any of this. Things likely wouldn't have turned out this way if she'd been remotely interested in him for anything than an easy lay by then. Twenty-plus fucking years ago. And in some ways it was good - better. He needed time to ... grow up or evolve too. Had to try to trust that shit worked out the way it was supposed or needed to. Still got her. Still got the kids - the son, the little girl - that he always thought he wanted. And he'd like to think he was a way better dad now than he ever could've managed back then. He likely would've fucked them up then. That's what he was going to tell himself. Like he wasn't still fucking Ben and Em up now. Failing them in new and much more mature ways ...

"He just needs to find someone who's able to handle his baggage," he mouthed against her. "And, honestly, that's not likely going to happen in his twenties." Not with some other girl who's his age and just wrapping up school and starting her career and maybe vaguely starting to think about what marriage and a family and kids look like and how it fits into her future. There's likely very few women on Earth that Jack would fit into that right now. Brian knew that from experience. It likely wouldn't be in his thirties either. "It's just the way it is. So we just keep being the safety net so he knows he's not alone. He'll find someone who sees his value. I did."

He felt her smile weakly against him. So it was quiet for a while again. He just focused on the feel of her against him. He felt her movements as she played at and tugged at the little ridges of fabric in his clothes.

"Did you ever include it in your sex life?" she muttered.

He gazed down at her. "What?"

And she nodded down his chest – toward his crotch. And he stared for a beat too and then reached and scrubbed at his brow.

"Yea," he managed. "A bit. Sometimes. Don't think it ever yielded a happy ending for anyone involved, though."

"Is it something you've ever wanted to explore since we've been together?"

And he squeezed at the bridge of his nose again and exhaled. He tried to figure out if and how he was supposed to answer that. He went with direct – honest.

"I don't really see it as something I can see myself asking you to do." He wasn't sure he could even visualize or fantasize about Liv going down on him. It just didn't seem right. Not with who they were - as individuals or a couple. "And it's just really not something I think about, Liv. It makes me think about … other shit that makes me want to crawl out of my skin." And he so didn't want to meld those two things at all.

She held him tighter. She pressed into him and it made him hold at her too. She felt a bit like his life preserver these days. He wasn't sure he liked feeling that way. He really fucking hated feeling that way. It made him feel like lesser again. A lesser than as a man. But he knew he needed her. So much. Sometimes it felt like she was the only one who was even capable of remotely getting it. Even though he wasn't entirely sure she got it - as much as she maybe thought she did. But he also didn't want her to get it. Because she would've had to have gone through more pain in her life than she already had for her to get it. And he wouldn't wish that on her.

"I love you," she whispered against his chest.

"Love you too …"

And more quiet.

"If it ever is something you want to work on," she whispered. "Or … try to associate with different … memories. I trust you, Bri. I'm willing to explore it with you."

"OK …," he managed. "But I don't think …"

"That's OK too," she said.

"OK …"

"I know we don't like each other apologizing," she said. "But I've been feeling like I don't say 'thank you' to you enough."

"I don't think there's much I need a 'thank you' for," he muttered.

She shrugged. "I think you do."

He gazed down at her and she shifted to look up at him.

"Everything after Lewis," she said. "Not just … the patience and the respect you showed in … letting me figure out that area of my life and our relationship. But, how you were there for the boys, Bri. And Emmy. I know we were so strained before … that. And … with the way I was when I first got home …" And she stopped. "I'm so sure we wouldn't still have Emmy if you hadn't …" and she shook her head.

Going there was too much. For the both of them. Still.

There was another situation he'd felt beyond helpless in. And like he'd failed her. He'd been so fucking scared that she wouldn't get home - wouldn't be found. How things would've - could've - been left between them. What it would do to the kids. What would happen to Emmy.

But supporting the kids - taking care of Emmy - that had been something he'd been able to do in those days she was gone. And trying to be there for them in the days and weeks and months after they did get Liv home.

It'd taken a while. A long while for her to be able to ... be there in a way the kids recognized her again. It changed her. She was still different. She always would be. Shit like that shifts your whole DNA. But they melded as a family again - maybe more than before. In a lot of ways it was the tipping point in really making them - establishing - them as a family.

It'd changed his relationship with the kids too. Big Man. The 'Brians' stopped during that. It sealed him in as Daddy. And Emily ... they didn't talk about it much, but they both knew that the fallout from Lewis and how it affected Liv - her absence even in her presence - meant that Emmy bonded with them in different ways. After ... how mad he'd been at Liv ... for just taking Emmy in without talking to him about it in any way ... it just didn't matter anymore. Not then. Not now. It was a moot point. There was a baby in the apartment who needed to be taken care of. He did it. And when Liv came home broken and traumatized and triggering all over the place and near mute for ... weeks ... he did it more. He took care of - raised - their kids while Olivia found her way back home to them in mind, body and spirit. And by the end of it - it was just ... a new ... different ... beginning. And Em was very much, undeniably his little girl. Something that still shone through in how she interacted and related with the both of them. Something that Liv still struggled with a bit ... or a lot.

But it just came down to William Lewis - what he'd done to their family - it changed everything.

He bent and pressed a kiss into her forehead. "You don't need to thank me for that. You guys are my family. And I can't fucking imagine our family anymore without her. Period."

She gave him a weak smile. "She's turning six, Bri …"

He gave her a little smile back. "Careful how you say it," he warned, repeating the warning they'd gotten earlier from their little girl. "It can sound like 'sex'."

"And apparently I 'work with people who have the bad kind of wrong, mean sex all day long'," Olivia repeated too. "'And that can get you sent to jail.'"

"I would've loved to see her teacher's face for that Em-ism too," Brian muttered but grinned. "She's so …"

"Our girl …," Olivia provided. "I'm so glad … you got us … me … through that … dark spot. Even if I wasn't – still don't like - talking about. Because … Bri … these kids … this life …"

"I know …," he conceded.

He knew it. He really fucking knew it.


	23. Strolling

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

"I still can't believe she lives here," Amanda muttered to Carisi as they wandered down the tree-lined street.

"What? In Brooklyn?" he shot her a look. "What's wrong with Brooklyn?"

"Carroll Gardens," she pressed back at him. "I mean … have you been looking at this place."

She shook her head. To start it'd taken nearly an hour to get from her place over to here. That wasn't exactly fun – or convenient – when she had a preschooler and stroller in tow. And Carisi. She would've been fine taking an Uber – or driving themselves, it definitely looked like they could've found parking on these streets. But he had to go and convince Jesse that riding on the subway was some kind of grand adventure. She was pretty sure he just wanted to play … whatever it was he was playing at anymore … and push Billie in the stroller. Demonstrate baby whispering skills that seemed to far exceed hers – even on this round two with a baby.

So she'd been annoyed enough about this whole … party. The one that she still reall didn't want to go to. And had still been playing on just not showing – no matter the whole little monologue she'd gotten from Liv the other day. If anything that almost made her want to go less. But Carisi had … pulled a Carisi.

He'd showed up on her doorstep – and was hearing none of it. Her excuses about not having any food to take or a gift for the girls to give Emily had clearly been prepared for. He had both in tow – including a card for Jesse to scrawl her name on.

He drove her crazy.

It'd driven her crazier when they'd gotten off the subway and pretty much entered into another universe by the time they were up to street level. The few block walk from the subway to their place had near been like walking through some kind of quaint, little village complete with ornamental lamp posts on streets lined with boutique-y shops and little cafes. Health food stores and orthodontic offices.

And then they turned down her street and they might has well have not even been in New York City anymore. The entire length of it was lined with trees. Old, full grown, healthy trees. It just screamed residential. All these old but modernized single-family homes built at the turn of last century and turned into duplexes now intermingled with newly built townhouses and condo buildings trying to disguise themselves in red brick so they could labeled themselves as some sort of nouveau brownstone in the real estate ads and likely add a couple mil in the process.

"Yeah. It's nice, right?" Carisi said.

Apparently the concept that this was where their very Manhattan, born-and-raised New York lieutenant lived now wasn't boggling him at all. For Amanda, it didn't matter how many times she got (forced) over to this place – it still confused the hell out of her. And maybe – more than maybe – made her a little envious too. But she also just didn't get it. At all. For Liv? Here?

"You know, I keep telling ya, you should really look at getting into one of the other boroughs," Carisi said. "Salary will go a whole lot farther – especially with Dr. Al's supplementals. I mean, you could have this. Trees. Yard. Couple bedrooms."

She gaped at him. "I don't know what the NYPD is paying you – but I sure won't ever be able to afford to live here."

He shrugged. "It's just all a matter of when you get into the market. Watching the real estate. I mean, wasn't so long ago that no one wanted to live here and now look at this place. It's like in a renaissance. Modern day New York, Amanda."

"I still don't know how – or why – she got into this market," Amanda muttered. "On an NYPD salary."

"Don't go getting all green over there, Amanda," Carisi cast her a look. And he went back to pushing the stroller while Jesse skipped along with her like she was really enjoying this little Alice in Wonderland moment. "Besides, didn't Cassidy get raised in Brooklyn? His Mom still lives here, right? So, between the two of them, likely knew where to watch. Able to get an inside track on a steal."

"I know how nosy you are, Sonny," she warned, using the whole 'Sonny' thing to get his actual attention. "Don't tell me that you didn't look at the listings when they bought this place. We both have a pretty good idea that living her wasn't exactly a steal."

It definitely hadn't been cheap. Though, she supposed when you framed it around New York standards, it might constitute some kind of value for money. But it still wasn't a sum of money that Amanda could really comprehend. OK – she could comprehend it. But she couldn't comprehend ever getting approved for that kind of mortgage and then how many years it'd take to pay it off.

The property Liv and Cassidy had invested in was such a strange contrast. Maybe Amanda could almost understand – maybe it'd seem a little more Liv – if they'd moved into one of these townhouse-condo complexes that were taking up residence in the area. But that wasn't what this place was.

It was a clapboard-style pre-war duplex. And they'd bought it out. The two upper levels to live in and the lower garden apartment that they'd been using as extra income, presumably to help offset the grotesque mortgage on the place, as far as Amanda could tell. (Though, she might've looked at the rental listing when Liv had had it posted initially, and by New York standards, what they were charging for the one-bedroom space was a bit of a deal. But it would necessitate living in Brooklyn and having Liv and Cassidy as landlords; landlords who lived above you, were cops and had two notably hyperactive kids and not actually technically having access to the garden or patio despite living in the lower-level 'garden' apartment. So there was that. And those were some negatives that likely resulted in the rental rate) The building was over a hundred years old. With a bright green exterior on a wedged little lot between buildings that stood just slightly taller and slightly shorter than it.

Though, when you did get in the door it was pretty clear the previous landlord had completely gutted and modernized the place – as much as was possible with that kind of limited square footage and necessary support walls. Clearly new oversized windows were everywhere. Hardwood flooring throughout the place that had at least been refinished. Bedrooms for each of their kids. A skylight in one of the bedrooms and custom-designed closets in each room. An en suite bathroom in the master bedroom. And another one up in the sleeping level while there was still a half-bath on the main floor. Everywhere it was definitely custom fixtures too. Though, they mostly bordered on tacky.

But that was kind of Liv's thing. Not that she'd ever say that to her. The completely ornate and uber feminine off the job thing sometimes felt a little extreme. Or like it was some sort of keeping up with the Jones' thing. Though, Amanda also suspected that the lieutenant had been the Jones' – at least in terms of money and financial means – for the better part of her life.

The kitchen and bathrooms in the place were slightly more tasteful. Brand new stainless steel appliances everywhere. Definitely 21st century. Though, the kitchen seemed maybe a little dated with the galley-style and white molded cupboards, Amanda thought but she wasn't an interior decorator by any means. She thought Liv might want to be – or even think she was. It was pretty clear that Liv had at least played decorate at this place in whatever touches it was they put on the place when they did move in a few years back.

Previous times Amanda been in the place it was pretty clear that it was all Liv and not a lot of Brian in there when it came to the stuff on the walls and ornamental bric-a-brac on the shelves. Though, she wouldn't even want to imagine what Brian Cassidy's idea of décor would be.

But the home entertainment system – and the built-in wireless speakers that had been almost bragged about – were clearly his touches. Or at least among his prized material possessions. Apparently the 'landscaping' in the 'backyard' was his handiwork too. Or so she'd been told previously. But hauling around bricks and patio stones to create 'garden boxes' seemed like about at her expected Flintstone capacity that she saw Cassidy as generally operating at most of the times she'd had run-ins with him.

Sometimes Amanda really didn't get Liv. There were times she didn't feel like they were so different. Or maybe she just really wanted to believe that since doing this job as a woman was hard – especially when you were raising kids. Maybe Amanda would like to hope that at some point she'd really break through the glass ceiling in the Good Ol'Boys Clubs too. Move beyond just being a detective. Though, at this point in her career she really couldn't imagine leaving SVU and she also didn't see Liv giving up her command anytime soon of her own volition. Not with two young kids at home – and now paying off this home. Pending any professional, personal and Cassidy-driven disaster, Liv would almost definitely stay in the big office all the way up to mandatory if 1PP let her.

But other times Amanda was just reminded how different they were. How much they'd … butted heads. And how they really only managed to bond around … likely being mothers. Likely when Liv had gone and fostered Emily as a baby and she was becoming a first-time mom too. Navigating the whole baby thing. You needed advocates and allies then. You really did. And the guys just never understood quite the same way as … other mothers.

But some shared sisterhood? Sometimes Amanda didn't know. They were still so different. Things they'd been through. The way they saw the world. How they were raised. What they felt was best for themselves or their careers or their kids.

Sometimes it just felt like she got such mixed messages from Liv – when she really just needed some honest advice and support. One month she's getting told to enjoy the pampering from Al. The next month she's getting told not to marry the guy if she didn't love him. And then whenever she opened her mouth was hypocrisy, Liv just managed to find bigger glaring examples of Amanda's own hypocrisy to throw right back at her.

Amanda knew in a lot of ways Liv was still passing judgment on her – even if she was trying to withhold judgment. At least verbally. Only verbally. That maybe Liv had given her a bit more leeway or become a bit more forgiving because of her raising two daughters as a single mother or because of her rape disclosure. But it was pretty clear she was still being weighed and judged for her morals – and how they held up to Liv and her standards.

But sometimes the whole St. Olivia thing didn't make a whole lot of sense. Amanda wasn't sure she followed or understood where all these lines went. What was good enough for her clearly wasn't good enough for everyone else. It was likely different people got different standards. Clearly Cassidy did. And even though Amanda was starting to understand a lot more why Brian Cassidy was the way he was, she still wasn't sure all that should be allowed to be used as an excuse for his behavior. Or some kind of justification for his methods and madness. It still didn't convince her at all that he was good for Liv – as a partner at home or on the job. It just seemed to prove more that he was liable to fly off the handle on a moment's notice.

And despite Liv's little speech from her soapbox the other day – Amanda wasn't entirely convinced that he was some profoundly different person at home or in their relationship. Though, Liv had definitely put her in her place and shut her down. Amanda mostly felt … annoyed with herself … for having opened her mouth in the first place. To Brian or Liv. She really didn't need to screw up her own relationship with Liv on a personal or professional level. That'd be a big step backward. But it might be too late for all that. There'd clearly been some backtracking and she was really trying to figure out how to operate within that now – that she'd stepped in it.

Carisi gave her another accusing look. "She's our boss, Amanda. How she spends her money and raises her family – it's only so much our business. Like none of our business. And, I mean, again, look at this place. It's a nice spot to be raising a couple kids. Hell of a lot nicer – and bigger – than anything they'd get in Manhattan for the kind of cash they likely dropped her. And they've both got their twenty and rank. Cassidy's got his NYPD pension and is still bringing in an Investigator's salary. And, wasn't the Lieu's mom some sort of big shot professor at Columbia? I mean, that likely means there was some kind of inheritance or something in the mix. So it's not exactly like they'd be that hard up for cash even by cop and New York standards. C'mon. They're like the perfect income bracket and kid bracket for this part of Brooklyn. I sure wouldn't be raising my family in Manhattan. I see where they're coming from. I mean, money likely would've gone farther on Staten Island. But …"

"No one wants to live on Staten Island, Carisi," Amanda muttered.

"Nearly half a million people want to live on Staten Island," he said.

"No, nearly half a million people live on Staten Island. Living there and wanting to live there are two different things."

He shook his head at her. "You just haven't given it any kind of chance. I mean, don't tell me the times you've been out to my parents' place – real house, real yard, space, residential, family, salt of the Earth people, affordable, unpretentious shopping – that that's not appealing."

"The commute is not appealing," she muttered. "Look, it's taken so long for us to get here even, don't be expecting us to stay long."

"Don't be like that," he pressed at her. "I mean, it's a nice – beautiful – spring day out. We're going to get some backyard barbecue at a little girl's birthday party. What's not to like about that?"

"Have you even been listening …," she muttered. She'd given him the rundown more than once on why she didn't want to go and why she wasn't planning on going and why it would be better for everyone – whether they wanted to accept that or not – if she just didn't show her face at this.

"And what you got on the go that's a better use of your Sunday?" he pressed, though. "Wasn't like this is throwing a wrench in you getting off to your Sunday church service or dinner with your folks."

She gave him a look. "And if it's such an imposition on your thrilling Sunday routine, Carisi, why are you showing up at my doorstep and dragging me to this thing?"

"For Emmy's biff-day par-tay, Mama!" Jesse skipped.

Carisi gestured at her little girl like that was explanation enough but then looked at Amanda more directly. "Because I even though I can hazard a guess on what you and the Lieu went and got all into it about behind closed doors there the other day, Amanda, this squad – Liv – we're the family you've got around here. You know that. So whatever you two are fighting about – it's family. Families – sisters, brothers - fight, you still show up."

Amanda gave him a long sideways look. She didn't like just about anything in that comment but it sure didn't feel like something she could say much of anything to without sticking her foot right into her mouth again. But she sure knew about all the problems sisters could cause. She would've hoped it could've been different in some kind of Thin Blue Line "sisterhood" but apparently not. At least when she was involved in the mess.

"I don't like leaving Frannie locked up in the apartment that long," she muttered.

"Oh, c'mon, Amanda," he shook his head. "She's there alone all the time. She'll be fine."

"OK, I don't want to throw off Billie's sleep-feed schedule," she pressed. "And at this rate, I'm going to need to feed her as soon as we get in the door."

Carisi cocked his head at her. "So?"

"So, I'm not exactly all modern-breastfeeding-mom enough to be whipping it out in front of everyone I know to be feeding her."

He made a noise. "You're kidding me, right? You know they've got bedrooms that I'm sure there will be no problem with you going and sitting in to feed Baby Girl. And, besides, I grabbed a couple bottles you pumped. They're in the diaper bag. I can feed her."

She exhaled and shook her head at him. "I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Go through my fridge, Carisi. Pack my diaper bag. Show up at my place unannounced!" Get all up into her life. Just make things difficult and more complicated than any of it was or needed to by. Her life was confusing and chaotic and messy enough without Carisi's definition of being supportive and helpful.

But he just shrugged at her. "I don't show up, you don't come. And that was just gonna make things a lot more … whatever … tense … between you and the Lieu. I think she's got enough going on without like piling more on."

"What's that mean?" she glared at him.

"I don't know. I mean, the stuff with Cassidy. It's pretty clear that more than struck close to home."

"Yeah, no kidding – because Cassidy went and used his victimization as a real good excuse to turn Liv into a victim here again. Like she hasn't been through enough," Amanda muttered.

Carisis shoot her a look. "And, see there's the problem."

"Exactly," Amanda shot daggers at him – because he wasn't going to spin this.

Expect he was: "One, Amanda, no guy ever wants to be told he's a 'victim'. You've done this job long enough to know that. You've gotta approach it differently with the male vics. And, two, our Lieu sure doesn't want that label too. It's like, you listen to her in the room with the vics, right? She never tells them they're the victim. It's always that they're a survivor."

"Because she's trying to connect and relate to them so they agree to testify and we have enough evidence to get the charges to stick and our cases into the courtroom, Carisi," she pressed right back.

"Yea, maybe," he conceded. "But I think she actually believes it. And I'm pretty sure that's how she sees herself too. Not a victim – a survivor. So you don't go telling our boss that she's a victim here in all this too. Like that's just asking for trouble."

"Well, it caused it …," Amanda mumbled.

"But I didn't even mean the whole thing with her Other Half there," Carsis said and Amanda gave him a bit of a disgusted look.

The concept of Brian Cassidy legitimately being an 'other half' in that relationship was still – likely always would be – baffling to her. It was more like an overgrown man-child. An angry teenaged boy who had no control over his emotions and didn't know how to think through any of his actions before just going off – all the fucking time. He was the kind of short fuse that gave cops a bad name. It was amazing he'd made it as far in the NYPD as he had and been given as much responsibility as he had over the years. And now in the DA's Investigator's Office? With all his pretty major fuck-ups along the way? To say he had a less than impeccable personnel file would be an understatement. Beside Brian Cassidy's jacket, Amanda looked like she was definitely New York's Finest.

"I don't know, something's going on with their little boy," Caris said. "I think."

"Benji? He's being bullied," she muttered.

"Benny funny," Jesse provided.

Amanda offered her a little smile but she didn't think funny was the right word. Benji had definitely always been a little strange. Cute but skittish – like some kind of caged animal. Shy and temperamental too. He had a tendency to go off too in bordering on psychotic break kind of ways – and Amanda really doubted having Cassidy as a 'dad' was doing anything to help with that.

Or Jack? There was a strange guy too and he got less of a free pass since he was technically an 'adult'. Really more of another immature man-child. He was so awkward. It was like he was always leering and staring and had some little obnoxious comment about everything and then the next second he was hiding in some corner like an absolute mute. She also didn't know what – or the why – Liv had gotten herself into there.

But Benji – as strange as he was - got a free pass since he was still a little kid. And even with what little Liv had disclosed over the years, Amanda knew enough to know that he'd sure been through a lot. And that explained a lot. Though, she sort of doubted that being raised with Brian Cassidy as a major influence in his life was doing much in normalizing him in any sort of way.

She had trouble picturing Cassidy as this 'wonderful, sacrificing' father that Liv had taken the time to describe him as. She sure didn't see him as a 'wonderful, sacrificing' partner. She'd definitely seen times where he'd more than let down Liv and hadn't shown up – at fucking Lewis' trial? At her promotion ceremony? At previously forced upon them dinner parties? Him being in IA and taking a run at all of SVU? Cassidy had put Liv's career in jeopardy more than once with one of his temper tantrums – and completely derailed multiple cases along the way. That wasn't Amanda's definition of 'wonderful' or 'sacrificing'.

But Carisi shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, Amanda, she took two days out in the past month because the kid had 'medical appointments'. And a half-day. I mean, what is that?"

She scrunched her brow at him. "Flu season in the cesspool that is public school."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I don't think so. Something's up. It's written all over her."

She stared at him for a beat and processed. Had she missed that? Or was Carisi just being Carisi? She had been out a lot herself – and more than a little preoccupied and distracted – with the new baby at home. But there was something going on with Liv's little boy? No, Carisi was likely talking out of his ass. That was one of his talents. He ran his mouth worse than her and usually had a lot less to say despite the word count.

"So, you know, don't make it worse," he said. "Today's just a little girl's party. Like you said – gonna to be lots of other people we know there. It's gonna be fine. Not so bad."

"We make slime," Jesse provided.

Amanda gave her a little smile. "I know, darling."

"See, Jesse's excited," Carisi said.

"I like nar-walls unicorns," Jesse said.

"I know, sweetheart," Amanda reaffirmed again and gave Carisi a look again. "It's that Liv - and Cassidy - are going to be there. That's the problem, Carisi. That's the big mess right now."

"Yeah, well, I don't think it's as big of deal as you're making it out to be," he muttered.

"I've had words with both of them, Carisi. It's just …" she shook her head.

"Yeah, well, like I said. I don't think it's as big of deal as you're making it out to be. And everyone's adults here, right?"

"Really? We're all adults here? Have you met Cassidy?" she mouthed at him.

You know, I really don't get what your big problem with Cassidy is anyway."

She glared at him. "Are you forgetting that barely a year ago, he nearly cost both of them their careers and got Social Services involved in a way that could've seen those kids taken out of their home? And that's not even getting into all the other stunts he's pulled and …" She glanced at Jesse and hushed her voice, "The truly shitty decisions he makes. It's like … the guy acts like he's some kind of character out of a Quentin Tarantino movie."

Carisi made a noise and rolled his eyes. "You know, there's a lot I could say about a whole lot of that. But before I step in it-"

"Oh, you're going to manage to dodge stepping in it? There's a first, Carisi," she muttered.

"I'll just leave it at, it was a year ago and none of that happened. They still have their jobs. They still have their kids. And the rest of it – it's pretty much their business to work out as a couple or family or whatever, Amanda. And it seems like they must be doing that."

"All I'm saying is – we came, we'll make an appearance, and then we're getting out of there quick," she said.

"Well, after the cake," Carisi said. "It's a little girl's birthday. You have to stay until she blows out her candles."

"I loooooooooove cake," Jesse hopped.

Amanda huffed a little and gave Carisi an annoyed look. "There's not going to be cake."

"Noooooo cake?" Jesse gaped at her.

He squinted at her. "What do you mean there's not going to be cake?"

"How have you missed out on this? It's been Liv's kid story for the past two weeks. Emily's decided she doesn't like cake. Or something. I don't know."

Carisi shook his head. "Who doesn't like cake?"

Amanda cocked her head at him. "Have you actually spent any time around Emily? Because that kid definitely marches to her own drum beat."

"It's a kid's birthday party. There's going to be cake," Cassidy muttered. "I mean, that's pretty much the redeeming factor of having to come out to these kinds of bashes."

"Don't hold your breath," Amanda said, and she gestured at the My Little Pony gift bag that Jesse was swinging along in her hand. "And I really wish you hadn't done that. Liv said so many times 'no gifts'."

Carisi made a face. "Everyone says that anymore. But showing up at a kids' party without a gift is like not bringing a bottle of wine to a dinner party. It's just frowned upon. And, c'mon, are you really going to begrudge a little girl a present on her birthday?"

"Waz in it Un-cal Sonny?" Jesse looked up at him with the biggest eyes. She gave Carisi those eyes too often.

He reached out and gave her shoulder a little nudge and then a little tickle under her chin. "I can't tell you, Jesse, because someone I know isn't very good at keeping secrets."

"I keep see-gets real good!"

He smiled an shook his head at her. "No, you don't, Monkey. But ... I promise that Emmy is really gonna like the gift you're giving her."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "And will Liv? Because she has weird ideas about toys," she said.

"Yeah, I know," Carisi said.

"You know?" Amanda looked at him. She didn't think Liv did a whole lot of 'kid talk' with Carisi. She actually thought that Liv avoided having as many conversations as possible with Carisi.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Sometimes I go grab a drink with Stone. Been a few times Cassidy's been there too."

She stared at him. "You go out for drinks with Cassidy?"

He exhaled annoyance at her. "Yeah. There's been a handful of times—"

"Oh, now it's a handful of times," Amanda muttered.

"Yeah, Amanda, I've had some drinks with the guy and I've had some conversations with the guy. And, I don't claim to have any profound knowledge of how he ticks or his inner workings or even really like him one way or another. But, I can tell you that over an after-work beer, the guy's got three topics: the job, sports, and his kids."

"They aren't his kids," she mumbled again.

And Cassidy rammed the stroller slightly into her heels. She glanced at him – initially with annoyance but then to glare when she realized he'd definitely done it on purpose.

"Don't do that," he pressed really firmly. "If anyone ever said that those two kids weren't Liv's kids, you'd be down their throat. They're his kids too. He's there. He's raising them. I've heard 'daddy' out of both those kids mouths and I sure haven't been around them as much as you. So don't play double-standard there."

"Touchy, Carisi," she stared at him.

He just shook his head. "Just …" and she could tell he wanted to say more – something. But he again stopped himself. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Since she'd been pregnant with Billie – and even more these past few months with Billie's arrival. He was censoring himself more. A lot more.

"Anyway …," he muttered. "I had a drink with them in the lead up to Christmas. Must've caught him just after they'd done shopping for the kiddies. There was commentary. But picked up on the attitudes about toys in their house. So don't worry."

Amanda considered him. "OK, so you know unless it's something that could stock their in-house nursery school and art studio there – it's probably not going to be that appreciated."

"There an art craft at the par-tay?" Jesse perked up again.

"I'm very sure there will be, honey," Amanda said begrudgingly.

Carisi just gave her a disapproving look. "The Lieu's not like that," he said. "Sure there will be the appropriate level of 'thank yous' going on. And, it's not some kind of parenting or motherhood competition, Amanda. Who cares if they are into – whatever – educational, artsy things? I mean, there's likely a reason for that. It's what their kids like. Or more likely - need. It's not like I get the sense that they've got the perfect kids. Got their own set of challenges. You don't need to be … whatever …"

"What do you mean 'whatever'? How am I being, Carisi?" she pressed at him.

He exhaled and stared at her. "I say anything and then I'm on your S-H-I-T list going into this thing."

She cocked her head at him. "You already are on my S-H-I-T list for dragging me to this thing," she said.

He huffed and looked at her. "OK, Amanda, I think part of whatever is going on between you and Liv or you and Cassidy is more about you being mad at yourself and your choices when it comes to relationships – and it's making you act all jealous."

Amanda rolled her eyes a little. "I'm definitely not jealous of Brian Cassidy. It's not like he's a catch. I don't need a third child to be taking care of."

"You're jealous of what they have," Carisi pressed at her. "And, maybe he's not your catch – but clearly the Lieu sees something in him-"

"I still don't know what," she muttered. "Even though she made sure to go all Liv on me on Friday."

"Yeah, because she's getting something out of the relationship, Amanda. It's not like she's some shrinking daisy in all this. I mean, I seriously doubt that it's some easy relationship for him either. I love Liv – I think she's a great person, a good boss, really good at her job, as a cop. But it's not like she's a super easy person. So, maybe you're jealous of that too. That she's found someone who's willing or able to deal with her - the way she is and who she is."

"Right, Brian Cassidy, the super hero for putting up with a strong woman," Amanda said.

Carisi looked at her. "That's not what I said. And that's not the way I think it is. I really doubt that's how it works. It's definitely not some match made in heaven. I mean, I hardly know them as a couple and I can see that. But what relationship is 'perfect'? They don't exist."

"And you're one to be talking about relationships," she raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not claiming to be some sort of expert. You don't have to do that. I mean, I know - look at me. You really think I planned to be this age and single, no kids and no prospects or social life?"

"Maybe you'd have some prospects if you stopped showing up on my doorstep, dragging me to things I don't want to even be at. Go to your Sunday mass, Carisi. Find your choir girl."

He slowed to a stop with the stroller and stood staring at her. A long time. And she just looked right back. She knew she'd pushed too far there. She'd been mean. But sometimes she felt like she needed to be.

"At least I get that relationships … I don't know. It's a lot of hard work," he finally said flatly and evenly. He shook his head and stared at the ground for a moment. "My parents – they bicker and disagree all the time. But – they've been together forty years, Amanda. They're best friends. That's what they say about why it works. History and foundation and friendship. Just shared life experiences and milestones. Being a significant part of each other's lives. An important part. There. I mean, that's something I can understand. I get that. And Liv and Brian? Like at least seven years? Right? I don't know – maybe more. That's something. That's a long time, especially the way things are in today's society. And if I was either of them, I'd be sorta hurt you were poo-poo'ing all over what they have. Because you're being ... ridiculous, Amanda, if you think what they have is easy. But relationships aren't. It's like … you're afraid of the hard work that having a real relationship with someone is. And, you know, I get why. I know you've been through ... a lot. But what ... you're just going to ... avoid being vulnerable with another person for the rest of your life? Or you just aren't willing to accept that whoever you find won't be perfect. But, neither are you. You know that right? You just want it to be easy or fun. You just want the ..." he sighed and stared into the stroller at Billie. "It's like I told you before … with Al. There's a big difference between being taken care of and being cared for. I think you made your choice and took your stance and think that's some big victory. And, maybe it is. But I still don't think you understand what that means in a relationship. Or you just aren't ready to be with someone that way. You can't let people in. And, you know, what? I just think that the Lieu and Cassidy have figured out some of it. They make it work for them. They get the difference. How to care for someone - not just take care of them or turn it into making sure they're taken care of. I think you know that too - that they have that. And that makes you jealous too. Because why them, right?"

She just stared at him. He looked hurt and annoyed and pissed off and sad and angry and … just raw. But she couldn't manage to stop him during it and she couldn't figure out what she was supposed to say now.

"Are you done?" was all she managed.

He just shook his head. "Yeah," he muttered and then gestured at the gate in front of the green house he'd just given that monologue. "You want to take this inside? Or just leave it out here?"

And she just stared at him some more. She wanted to run – just leave him standing there. But she opened the gate and directed Jesse in and up the few steps to the front door. And she stopped and grabbed the front wheels of the stroller and started to haul it up the steps while Carisi kept it balanced and level from the back.

Balanced and level. That was usually him.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**The next chapter will continue with a scene inside the party. I'm undecided on if it will be Liv's POV or Carisi's. Vaguely contemplating doing it as Brian's or Rollin's too. But more likely one of the former.**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated.**


	24. Birthday Surprise

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

"Olivia, I think you've got more guests coming up to the door," she heard Janet call at her from the kitchen.

Olivia had only stepped out of helping in the kitchen for a moment as it was. No matter how organized – and small – this little gathering was supposed to be, it never seemed like their idea of a 'party' essentially populated by adults went smoothly - even if the menu was essentially hot dogs. She'd admittedly got a little more than that on the table – even if it was mostly items that could be classified as condiments. And, Brian – after getting his barbecue together – had decided he wanted burgers too at the last minute. So that had been interesting. Especially when he decided he wanted to – and knew how to – season the burgers and make the patties himself. But she just took it as another make-work scenario he'd created to avoid having to look at people today. And she told him to do what he wanted – but he had to handle it. And he had. He'd gone and bought the meat and the seasonings and the buns and the tomatoes, lettuce and cheese he'd decided had to compliment this. And she just kept her mouth shut. Had to treat this as a compromise.

But it'd also meant that she'd ended up was still tied to getting things organized inside a bit more than she'd like at this point in the day. More tied up because – unsurprisingly – Janet had designated herself as the kitchen helper, which always interesting too. It was a bit of a battle for control while trying not to step on each other's toes while so completely stepping on each other's toes. It was an exercise in polite passive aggressiveness if there ever was one.

So Olivia had stepped out for a moment. She'd just gone to check in on the chaos that was unfolding in their small back garden lot and watched the antics of her kids – and the couple little ones that had already arrived. Carisi's little niece and Fin's little grandson.

She'd also been keeping an eye on Brian's own passive aggressive exercise. He was doing his best to look really busy – far too busy to talk or share a beer – with any of the other men in the yard, even though she'd seen that Peter Stone had been over attempting a conversation with him for a few minutes. He'd moved over to talking to Jack, though, and intermittently checking at his phone. Olivia suspected he was probably building a case for a quick escape from this gathering. Then Brian might want to join him. But for now he was brushing at the brand new grill like he was a real pro at this – and really needed to clean its still sparkling surface before throwing any meat on it.

So it was a little messy out there. A little awkward and strained. But she supposed that was the uncomfortable discomfort that all of them had learned to operate in to some extent. So she just tried to enjoy – relish – the family she'd cobbled together for herself. For all of them.

"Did you want me to get it for you?" Janet asked again when she didn't immediately move. But Olivia shook her head and stepped back through their sliding patio door to move through the living space and toward the door.

She didn't know how Janet had heard anything over the noise outback – or the music that Brian (via Benji and Emmy) – had going at a level was probably a little too loud to enable much conversation. Likely another part of his plan. Bust she'd let him have at it for a bit longer. They were still waiting on a few more people. But after their house and yard was full – she'd be turning it down. Their uptight neighbors were likely going to be at the door – or calling NYPD – as it was with a noise complaint. They couldn't win.

But Janet was right – there was a loud pound on the door when she was almost at it. Maybe there'd been a quieter one before that she'd just missed over all the on goings in the back garden lot.

She offered a smile as she opened the door – though she was greeted by Amanda and Carisi, neither who looked too happy to be there.

"Hey guys …," she tried. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Sure, wouldn't miss it," Carisi said. There was silence from Amanda. So Olivia shifted her eyes down to Jesse who was holding up a gift bag.

"Happy Biff-Day!" the little girl said.

It made Olivia smile some more. "Oh, wow, Jesse, thank you. But it's not my birthday. But I know Emmy is going to be so happy you're here. You didn't have to bring a gift, though."

"It from Un-kel Sonny," the little girl said again holding it up more.

"Oh," Olivia said and gave him a look – and she saw that Amanda gave him an even more accusing one.

"It's from all of us," Carisi said. "And it's no big deal. Just a little something for the birthday girl."

"Ah," Olivia allowed and gestured for Jesse. "Well, Jesse, we are actually just putting the presents right over there. Emmy will open them in a little while."

"See," Carisi nudged Amanda. "Told ya you bring a gift to these things."

Amanda exhaled and nearly rolled her eyes to the back of her head. Olivia managed to restrain a little smile at that.

Jesse blazed more into the house to set the bag on the coffee table that was becoming more cluttered than Olivia would like with presents for their little girl. So far no one had listened to the 'no gift' request.

Even Stone had brought something with a 'I've never really bought for a little girl before. I usually get people ball tickets for these kinds of things but I didn't get the sense you're a baseball family right now.' Olivia had just hummed on that. The Captain had taken Benji and Emmy to several Mets games over the years. But Brian always bowed out of going – even though he'd been invited for years now. It was still probably best that Peter not be giving them tickets right now – or particularly that day given the circumstances.

"Come on in," Olivia offered to Carisi and Amanda and stepped aside as they tried to navigate the stroller through the doorway and then through the little entry vestibule. She knew it could even be a tight turns for them with dragging kids' sports equipment, bikes and scooters through the house.

"Everyone's in back," Olivia said as they two of them gave each other dirty looks at the maneuvering. A squawk from Billie confirmed that they weren't doing it very gently. "You're welcome to take the stroller right through. But it might be a little tight out there."

"Her bucket pops right off," Carisi provided and he got another glare from Amanda.

"I need to feed her," Amanda muttered, reaching to undo the straps. "And she likely needs to be changed."

"I can do it," Carisi said. "You can—"

"I'll do it," Amanda glared at him.

He stepped away and Olivia gave them a bit of a glance between the two of them.

"Umm, OK," she said and pointed at the stairs. "If you'd like you can use our master. We've got a really comfortable armchair in there. She shook her head. "Actually, Brian was the last one up there he has the tendency to use that chair as his personal closet and laundry hamper. So just let me—"

But she caught the look Amanda was giving her as she gripped her baby in her arms and swung the diaper bag over her shoulder. She clearly had no intention of setting foot in a room her and Brian shared – for sleep or anything else.

"OK …," Olivia allowed. "Well, the kids' playroom is first door on your left. There's a futon set-up in there but it will definitely look like a tornado has gone through the area."

"Thanks …," Amanda muttered again and turned on her heel up the stairs.

Olivia watched her for a beat and then looked at Carisi.

"Yeah, we sorta, you know … maybe talked too much on the walk from the subway to here."

"Ah …," Olivia allowed but then held up a hand to stop him from saying more. "Trust me, we've been there."

It wasn't exactly the right thing to say – but whatever it was that Carisi and Amanda had going on wasn't right either. Or maybe it was more right than either of them wanted to admit. Partnerships on these kinds of jobs – it was just too complicated. You get close. Too close. It was hard.

The boundaries become blurry and skewed. And Amanda wasn't too good with the boundaries. And maybe was a little too good at using men in a way she didn't even realize or want to admit she was using them. She at least was good at using partners. Nick and now Carisi.

Though, Olivia definitely got the sense that the whole situation was much more confusing for Sonny and he hadn't figured out how to navigate it yet. She did know he'd already had his heart trampled on to a point. She hoped he didn't let himself go through what she'd let herself go through with Elliot – and partners and the job. It was a waste of her thirties. And beyond confusing.

It still confused her – and angered her when she thought about it. Carisi didn't need that. He was Carisi – but he was a nice, sweet guy too. He really cared for Amanda. And he cared even more for those little girls, she could tell. Maybe that was part of the problem. Sometimes what Carisi was going through made her draw too many parallels between herself and Brian. What she'd gone through with Elliot and what she'd put Brian through all those years ago. Heart-ache all round.

Jesse came charging back from her examination and 'ooooohing' and 'aaahhing' of the gifts on the table. "Mama …" she bee-lined for the stairs.

"Hey, Monkey," Carisi said and held out his hand. "Mama's just going to feed your sister and check her diaper. Let's stay down here and get this party started."

It was good timing because Emmy came stomping at a million miles an hour in.

"'ElllllllLLOooooo!" she said to Jesse.

"Happy Biff-Day!" Jesse provided.

"Tank you," Emmy said. They'd been training her on that. The first few guests definitely hadn't gotten that greeting. But there wasn't enough distraction when they first arrived so it'd been more that she'd been nosy and restless about the gifts getting added to the coffee table. Now that there were people to play with she wasn't as preoccupied with the giv'mes-wazzits.

"Wow, nice dress, Emily," Carisi said.

Emmy looked down at the bright blue, narwhal printed, racer strap spring time dress that she had on – though partially covered up with a Dash My Little Pony hoodie that Jack had brought over and once again made himself a near instant hero in his little siblings' eyes.

"Tank you," Emmy managed again. "Gamma made it for my biff-day."

"Wow," Carisi said again. "Talented Grandma."

"Jep," Emmy allowed and crouched down to swipe her hands across the flip-sequin shoes she'd been working at destroying already. "And Mommy and Daddy got me narwhal shoes."

"Oh, Carisi said. "Is that what narwhal shoes look like?" he asked with a smile as Emmy flipped the sequins between sparkling silver and sparkling aqua-blue. Jesse let go of Carisi's hand to squat down and try it too.

"Jep," she said again but then flipped all the sequins back to silver. "But I leave them as this 'cuz then it match my horn!" she added and popped back up, her hand landing on her party hat.

"Oh," Carisi smiled some more. "That's your narwhal horn?"

"Jep," Emmy said and then looked at Jesse. "You get one too."

Jesse's eyes got big and bright and she looked up at Carisi. 'Wow', he mouthed at her.

"Jep!" Emmy said. "And! We goin' to make narwhal snot slime. But not yet. 'Cuz we waiting for you. And still Leo too. So we're diggin' worms in Mommy's flower box," she said. "Un-cal Fin do not like worms. He says to keep them away from him!"

"Uncle Fin is afraid of worms?" Carisi said, casting Olivia a look.

"Apparently," she allowed.

"Jep!" Emmy confirmed with a little hop. "But not us! 'Cuz worms and snails and EP-ICK adventures tales – that's wha Benson-Cassidys are made of! Daddy says!"

Carisi smiled and Olivia did too.

"We went on an adventure yetter-day, Un-cal Sonny!"

"Oh, yeah? Where to?"

"To dah mar-leen bio-logist boat on da ocean. To look for narwhals."

"To the boat playground at Brooklyn Bridge Park," Olivia clarified.

"Wow," Carisi smiled again. "That sounds like a pretty amazing adventure."

"Jep. We went on my new BIG GIRL bike! It my and Mommy's fav-it blue! With BLUE WHEELS!"

"Is it a narwhal bike?" Carisi asked.

Emmy gave him a look. "Dere no such thing as a narwhal bike!"

"Oh, sorry. My bad there, kiddo."

"Jep! I really fast and keep up with Daddy and Bubba. Almost. I go just as fast a Mommy! And it a STUNT BIKE! So now I can do JUMPS with Dack and Bubba too! At the kate park. In da BOWL RAMPS! But not dis weekend 'cuz first I have to prac-tis cuz it my first BIG GIRL BIKE!"

"Whooooooa," Jesse looked at her with big eyes.

"Jep!" Emmy hopped again. "And now we havin' another adventure! 'Cuz Mommy say we allowed to make a WAL-CAN-O in her flower box! And we gonna make it erupt!"

"Valcano?" Jesse said.

"Jah," Emmy said. "It a big mountain we hafta make and then we do a CHEM-ICK-AL reaction and it will BLOW UP!"

Jesse clutched at Carisi. "Like fye-works? I do not like fye-works. That blow up loud."

"Don't worry, Monkey, I don't think it will be scary like fireworks."

"It not cary," Emmy said. "It EP-ICK! AND! Guess what?"

"What?" Carisi said – he was clearly enjoying this conversation.

"Daddy gonna show us a mag-ick sci-ence tick! He know how to blow up a balloon without even usin' his air! It chem.-try too. He says."

"Wow. Sounds like your daddy must be pretty smart to know how to do that," Carisi offered.

"Jep," she said. "He da smart-est. After me."

Carisi held in a little laugh at that and gave Olivia a look and a big smile. But she just shrugged. She didn't doubt that after Emmy really came into her own over the years and her intelligence blossomed, in terms of IQ points, she likely would be ranked pretty high in the family in terms of smarts.

"But first we hafta finish the val-can-o. 'Cuz Daddy needs the sci-en-tif-ick materials from dat to show us the mag-ick balloons. So you wanna help?"

Jesse gazed up at Carisi. He just nodded at her. "We're here to party. Go party, Monkey."

She smiled a bit and dropped his hand. Emmy took that as her cue and went charging back toward the patio again with Jesse right on her tail.

"Sounds like you've got quite the activity line-up, Lieu," he said.

Olivia shrugged and shook her head. "Carisi, we buy school craft glue and baking soda and vinegar by the gallon around here. Believe me, other than having other adults here, this is pretty close to what our weekends look like around here. Kitchen science experiments that I'm just happy we might be finally moving into warm enough weather that we can make them backyard science experiments again."

He gave her a little nod and stared across the house into the back patio. "You got a beautiful day for it."

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed.

Saturday would've been nicer. It nearly felt like summer the day before when they had the kids tearing around at the park for hours. And in some ways it probably would've been smarter to have this gathering on the Saturday – but in others it would've disrupted the kids' routine way too much and they would've paid for that in other ways.

She gave the stairs a little glance. "Will Amanda be OK with her digging around the dirt?"

The little girl was definitely in a party dress that was a lot fancier than anything she'd ever dare to have her kids in. It was actually a miracle that Emmy had agreed to put on a dress for this party. That was all Janet and her fabric find. It was pretty good motivation. And it still certainly wasn't a party dress. It was definitely a run-tear-around-dig-in-dirt dress that was all their daughter.

"Yeah, sure," Carisi said.

Olivia wasn't so sure about that, though. She gestured through the patio. "Alejandro seems a little concerned about Jaden's participation in the volcano construction. And Ken is checking all the ingredients on the slime making materials – which Fin also says he's not touching."

Carisi just gave her an amused smile. "Yeah, well, knew what this purpose of this party was when she dressed her, right?"

Olivia gave a little shrug and just shook her head. She actually thought she'd be heading upstairs to see if she could find some of Brian's more disgusting tshirts to pull over top of some of the kids' party outfits before they got into making slime.

"Looks like Cassie is loving it …," he said staring out at his niece and her dad, having spotted them in the mix of the other kids, crowded around tearing apart the flower boxes and the rather mucky springtime dirt. Thankfully there was a lot of planter gravel in there to make it slightly less disgusting. Emmy's hands had been nearly black when she'd been in there hopping around. They bathroom down there was going to be a mess when they tried to get all the kids' hands washed before feeding them.

Olivia nodded. "Your sister and Tommy likely got here … maybe twenty minutes ago. I'm glad they came."

Carisi nodded. "Me too. I wasn't too sure she would."

She gave him a thin smile. "I'm glad you managed to get Rollins and her girls here too. Thank you."

He shrugged. "You know. Family …" he gave her a bit of a once-over when he did. "And speaking of … notice all you guys are going all matchy-matchy, Lieu."

She allowed an amused noise at that. Not quite. But they were all in blue – and definitely more dressed up than any of them would be on a typical Sunday. "We're embracing our inner narwhal," she allowed. "'Because always be yourself unless you can be a narwhal. Then be so mythic, you're legendary.'"

Carisi allowed another amused sound. "I like that," he conceded.

"Another Brian-ism," she conceded.

Carisi gave her a little smile and Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "I think you know everyone else." She gestured a bit out the window. "Or have you meet Mattieu yet?"

"Barba's foster kid?"

She nodded and pointed a bit. The boy was slouched at the picnic table looking somewhere between angry and bored. The attitude problem must've worn thin on Rafael's patience for the moment. She'd seen him sitting with and talking with the boy before but he was giving Mattieu space at the moment – over talking to Stone but still keeping the twelve-year-old in his line of sight.

"He's got his hands full," she allowed. "So we're just waiting on Alex and Peter … Langan … her partner, the attorney who helped us with Emmy. … Their little boy, Leo," she said. "I'm not sure if you've met them either."

Carisi shook his head. "Don't think so. Alex just in passing a few times."

She nodded. "Alex is always our last minute cake savior. Blueberry cupcakes with blue icing that look like the ocean and have sharks and fish was the demand – as long as Emmy doesn't have to eat them. And as long as they don't touch her ice cream."

"She's a character," Carisi said.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's an understatement. For a child that doesn't have any of Brian's DNA, she is all her father."

"I don't know about that," Carisi said and gave her a thin smile.

Olivia rolled her eyes a bit. "So I think Alex is running a little late. And we're hoping John … Munch … comes. But he always runs more than fashionably late so he can make an entrance."

And he might just not be up to it. That was the bigger issue. John looked so worn and tired anymore. She wasn't sure he was going to beat the cancer. The doctors hadn't given much up and John only had so much tolerance when it came to dealing with doctors and hospitals and insurance company and big pharma. When it was combined with how much the treatment was taking out of him – how sick he looked – Olivia wasn't sure how much longer he'd keep going the course versus deciding he'd like to just try to enjoy what was left of his life without having so many chemicals pumped into him, making him weak and sicker with little hope of remission.

It broke her heart. But she was trying to understand. And she understood that this get-together might be a little too much for him. And similarly to Brian, there might just be people there he'd prefer not to see with where he was at in his life right now.

Carisi allowed a smile and then stepped back to the stroller and reached into the bottom basket to pull out two contains. He came back to her, though he stared up the stairs while he did. Amanda was taking a while – but it was definitely possible that the baby didn't want to feed. Or Amanda was just taking a bit of a time-out from Carisi. Hopefully not this party after she'd barely just walked in the door.

"Cannolli," he said. "And, I don't know, some store-bought Greek salad … maybe … that Amanda picked up on the way over here."

Olivia allowed a thin smile. "Thank you," she said.

Brian breezed back into the house, Benji trailing right at his hip, and looked their way. "Hey, Carisi," he said.

"Cassidy," he acknowledged. "Thanks for the invite."

Brian made a bit of a sound at that. "You want a beer or something?"

"Umm …," Carisi seemed surprised it wasn't a dry party. Or maybe he was staring at Brian's near shaved head and Benji's matching-do.

Olivia sort of wished that he'd held off on the matching beyond buzz cuts that he'd apparently convinced Benji to go for sometime between last night and when she woke up this morning. Though, apparently there'd been a much more noticeable clump of hair on Benji's pillow case that had caused a meltdown. This had been the spur of the moment – little thought into the timing – solution. And, though, she wasn't opposed to it, she really wished it could've happened after the party. Because she was pretty certain it was going to raise some questions with people there – that she didn't particularly want to answer. She'd been putting off telling anyone what was going on with Benji. She wasn't sure how much she wanted to tell. Or who's business it really needed to be.

Brian just looked at her. "Babe?"

Olivia nodded and swiped at her eyebrow again. "I'll open a bottle of the wine and take it around," she acknowledged. "In a minute."

He nodded. "I'm gonna get the meat going."

"OK," she said. "You helping Dad, Benj?"

He shrugged a little at her as Brian disappeared into the kitchen and he followed right after. Carisi made a gesture like he was going to follow to deposit the foodstuffs, and maybe follow-up on that drink offer. But he stopped as he passed their one bookshelf that had become nearly more occupied with framed photos than books. She knew exactly which one had caught his eye.

Olivia stepped over to look at it too. It was a ridiculously old photo of her and Brian at McFarland's and likely a few too many sheets to the wind. They both looked young and so happy they were clearly likely at least punch-drunk after a long shift likely with a case they'd managed to close or get charges to stick on.

"Brian's mom is slowly working at going through some of her apartment. She came across that in the midst of discovering Brian has dumped a lot more boxes at her house during every move in his adult life than she previously thought."

Carisi gave her a look. "Yeah, I'm familiar with that trick. Though, my folks have got a garage."

She made an amused noise at that. She wasn't that amused with the fact that Janet now had a box sitting by the door every time they were over there wanting it out of her place. Olivia thought she had every right to be trying to get rid of the junk – but she was slightly unimpressed that it was ending up over at their place now. And that Brian still didn't have too much interest in dealing with the boxes contents. Though, her starting to open them had prompted some action. He wasn't too impressed with the concept of her digging through his past. But there was this find, which Olivia was trying to see as … sweet, not reading too much into the mildly concerning that he'd kept a photo of them together from that rather turbulent period of their friendship and relationship. She couldn't say much. She had photos that she likely should've let go of long ago too. At least this one she was kind of glad – now – that he'd held onto, even if it'd been buried away for years.

"Think you should be adding that one to your office collection, Lieu," Carisi said.

She shrugged a little and rubbed at her eyebrow a little self-consciously. "Maybe. Right now the kids are enjoying it."

"Right, Mom and Dad before they were dinosaurs?" he peeked into the kitchen, presumably at Benji with that jibe but her boy was playing shy, as usual. He didn't get a reaction.

Though, Olivia made a noise and gave him a look. "Thanks, Carisi."

He shrugged. "When is this?"

"Ah …," she shook her head and poked her head into the kitchen. "Bri, do you know what year the photo is from?"

He made a small hum as he handed Benji hot dogs from a package to stack on a plate to take back out with him. Benji was making log cabins with them, slowing the process. "Likely '98 or '99."

"Wow," Carisi said and stared at it again. "So what? Your early-30s?"

"Twenty-seven when I got my shield," Brian muttered from his work. "So probably twenty-eight."

"Peedg is twenty-five," Benji said and gazed up at Brian.

"Yea," Brian allowed.

"He'll be twenty-eight in three years," Benji said.

"Yep," Brian allowed again.

"You and Mom have been friends that long? Since Gee-Peedg's age?"

"Fooooor-eeeeeev-eeeeeer," Olivia smiled at her son.

"You're way older than Peedg now," Benji said.

"Yep," Brian said. "Photo's from last millennium. Told you that."

Benji considered all that. "That's long."

"It is," Olivia agreed.

Carisi gave her a look. "So you're what?"

Olivia just shook her head again. "Thirty."

"Oh," Carisi said with a small tease. "Younger man."

"Make sure she remembers that too," Brian said.

"Every chance he gets," Olivia muttered. Her fiftieth had definitely given him a lot of impetus to do so. Though, he'd let up a bit since she actually had that number assigned to her – likely because he knew in a couple years she'd be making sure he knew exactly how it felt to be reminded you'd reached that milestone. "And, one day, you too, will look back at now, Carisi, and wonder where the last twenty years went."

He just gave her a cocked head. "It's a good shot, Lieu. Like it a lot."

"Mmm …," she allowed. "Us too."

There was movement back at the front door. "Don't make a fuss," she heard Munch's unmistakenable voice. "I've been told multiple times I don't have to knock and I have yet to walk in on anything that looks like it requires SVU involvement."

"Bri …," Olivia nodded at him. He gave a thin smile and moved to wash his hands. "Excuse me," she said, touching Cassidy's arm and going toward the door.

But she stopped as got to the vestibule and saw that it wasn't just John coming in – it was Cragen and Eileen.

"Bri …," she called again and hurried over a bit more. "What are you doing here?"

"While I was invited," John said. "I don't know about them."

Olivia just gaped at them and shook her head, stepping in to give John and then Eileen and Cragen a brief hug.

"You're supposed to still be down in Saratoga," she said, shaking her head at them.

Brian appeared. "Whoa," he said. "Hi, welcome." He stepped up to give Munch his own hug. "Thanks for coming, Johnny." He offered his hand to Cragen. "Cap, Eileen."

"We couldn't miss Emmy's big sixth birthday," Eileen said, gripping her hand and elbow and looking at her with such an intensity that Olivia knew it was more than that. She glanced at Brian and then her eyes set on Cragen.

"We heard what's going on with Benjamin," he told her softly.

She gaped a little at that, trying to find words. Suddenly aware that Benji was peeking out from the kitchen, that Carisi was still right there and there was the creak in the stairs of Amanda finally coming back downstairs. She gazed at Brian but he shook his head.

"Hey," Munch said, "Don't look at him. If Yippie-Skippy is going to be yabbering his big mouth about Bingo having toxins not dissimilar to what is being pumped into my decrepit body pumped into his little self, you can be sure I'm going to be yabbering that onward. Because I know how the two of you are with asking for help."

Olivia sighed. "I didn't want to worry you while you were still away," she said.

"Olivia," Eileen said. "We're here to help any way we can. It doesn't matter where we are when you need to ask for that help."

Cragen just looked at her with those deep, sad eyes of his.

"Yeah," Munch said. "We're their honorary Old Farts. We're supposed to be … doing all this … Old Fart stuff. So where's the birthday girl and Bingo? Come on now. We come bearing … Old Fart gifts and smells and expecting you to feed us before we need to take out our dentures."

Brian allowed a smile and glanced behind his shoulder. Though, Olivia could tell from his face he'd just realized that Carisi, Amanda and his mom were all looking at them too – while trying to look like they weren't.

"Big Man," was all he said though and gestured for Benji to come over.

And Olivia just looked back to the three people in front of her – and clasped her hands and tried to keep her eyes and voices from betraying the emotions bubbling in her. "Thank you for coming," she said.

It meant so much.


	25. Needs

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia dragged her thumb in little strokes across Brian's forehead – up at the hairline that felt like it was sitting a lot higher now with his short-cropped hair. She knew he liked that. Not that he ever really said anything remotely close to affirming it. But he rarely pulled away from the small affections she gave to him. She suspected they weren't something he'd gotten for much of his adult life and whether he knew it or not, now when she did it, he generally leaned into them. A give away that he craved it.

She was staring into his eyes as she did it. And he was looking right back at her. Though, he'd taken long exhaled several times and let his eyes close briefly like he might be considering trying to sleep. Like she might actually be lulling him to sleep – the sleep she knew he needed so badly but he also wasn't likely to admit.

Though, she also knew he wasn't likely to sleep right now, because his mind would be going a million miles an hour. Thinking while trying not to think. That vacant stare he got – that she knew he'd practiced much of his life. But it was a good mask. A strong and concealing one. Even with all the years she'd known Brian – the years she'd now been living this close to him – she still struggled to read his emotions.

Olivia actually thought Brian had learned to hide and bury – to just not allow himself to feel his emotions – in a more concerted effort than what is taught and internalized by most men (though she was doing her damnedest to ensure it wasn't taught or ingrained in her son and trying to reverse some of it in Jack now while he was still a young adult and not a complete lost soul). Brian visually didn't show a lot of emotion – even for her. He showed more for the kids. Benji and Emmy made him smile and laugh more than she could manage most days – or even weeks. But that was a blessing. He needed that. She had to be grateful that there was something – two little people – who were able to draw that out of him. Otherwise, the only emotions that Brian visibly seemed to know how to externalize were anger and rage. And even though he knew he could blow with her – that he could have that short fuse, because she knew how to handle it and how to handle him – they rarely saw that side of him at home. Because Brian – he worked so, so hard; he buried more and more – so the kids wouldn't see or know that side of him.

But she was still taking him staying there – having not withdrawn from her or run away and practiced avoidance – was progress. Usually he would've let his frustration – and his embarrassment – and now she knew likely triggers and memories and sensations he was trying to hide and protect her from, would've meant he wasn't still there. He wouldn't be looking her in the eye and letting her touch him. To try to calm him and connect with him – even though she was still struggling to read him.

"We can talk about it if you want," she whispered at him. "It's allowed."

He made a little noise but just kept looking at her. They'd been doing that for a while. Laying on their sides in their bed in the dim light coming in from the street just looking at each other. So she just stroked and massaged at his forehead and scalp and ears and scruffy cheeks a little more.

"You looked amazing today," he finally mumbled at her. "I like that dress you got."

She gave him a small smile, as she curved her finger around his ear.

Olivia knew he'd liked it. Actually, when she'd used Emmy's party as an excuse to pick up something new for her spring wardrobe, she'd known Brian would like the simple patterned maxi dress. Not that he was particularly picky about what she wore but she knew it hit in and hugged the right places – the ones he liked to drift his hands to if he decided he'd like to see it off as much as he liked to seeing it on.

Brian was good about that. One thing he did manage to express was that he 'liked the curves'. And as much as that base statement coming out of his mouth made her roll her eyes, she also accepted that Brian had done a lot in making her comfortable with her body in middle age and finding comfortable ways to still live in her body and own skin after Lewis.

Despite the weight gain, shifting hormones levels and other body changes that had come along with menopause, he'd never made her feel unattractive or particularly changed. Though, she was sure he noticed. But it was usually her who made some kind of comment – about a size change or a wardrobe attire shift or wanting to making time and room in the budget for her to get a trainer and get in the gym. But he always just gave her a look and said, "Yea. I like that." About the only thing he'd told her that he didn't like was her latest hairstyle. Apparently he liked it when it was a bit shorter than she had grown it out too. And his statement about why she'd done that wasn't entirely inaccurate. She'd gotten, "I don't know. It's like you're hiding under it. I like seeing your face." There was some truth to that, if she was being honest.

Sometimes it was strange for her to realize she was with a man who'd known her body at thirty. It was stranger to realize – accept - she was still letting him explore it and … service it … now. That she – they, Brian – were still learning things about her body now. For a lot of different reasons.

But she could say the same for him. He'd changed too and she was still learning – about him, about his body. He was older and wider and more scarred and grizzled than those boyish, baby-faced good looks, that she was almost surprised he'd outgrown, of his late-20s. But he was still Brian. A more adult, older, wiser version of him. Life did that too.

"I appreciate that," she put back to him. "But, Bri, I've never really taken when this happens as some kind of comment on your attraction to me."

Another quiet noise came out of him and his eyes drifted from hers a bit. "What'd you take it as?"

She was almost surprised he'd asked. But she took it was another indication of some progress for him.

Olivia moved her hand back to the scruff along his jaw line. She got the sense he was going to start growing it out again. His own version of hiding. Though, not that Brian ever seemed to manage much of anything that resembled a beard. A splotchy goatee at best.

"That as much as you don't want to hear it, you're a middle-aged man," she said and got a mildly amused sound out of him and the eye contact reconnecting. "That we're both running on exhaustion. That we work jobs and cases that are hard to get out of our heads. That sometimes you likely drink a little too much."

"I'm not drunk," he mumbled.

"I know," she acknowledged. "But I think at your age and stage, when combined with everything else, maybe a beer or two … or three … is enough to make it a little hard …"

He looked at her. "A little hard …?"

"Aren't you funny," she mouthed at him and it got a wryly grin.

"If you're grading things on scales of a 'little hard', think maybe there's a bigger problem …" he mumbled though.

She cocked her head slightly at him. "And whenever I mention anything about talking to the doctor about anything, it's the end of any conversation."

He stared at her. "You saying you need me to go and get a 'script for some little blue pill?"

"No," she made him find her eyes again. "Brian, I am beginning to very much understand that your relationship with your sexuality if complicated. But I do not have, nor have I ever had, a problem with your penis or how you use it. I've told you before – what you do, what we do, it works for me."

He made a little noise again and exhaled, letting his eyes drift away. "That all …"

She set her hand on his cheek. "Don't do that. You know it's more than it 'works'. I enjoy your sex life, Brian. I always have. But sometimes I think it doesn't work for you," she said softly and his eyes came back slowly. "There's been times that before … recently … I thought … after Lewis … some of my boundaries and comfort levels … made things … challenging for … both of us. You."

He stared at her. "You know how you never want to talk about it because you don't want me having those images in my head?" She allowed him a little nod. "That never really worked. It's like … I've still got images, Liv. It's just … I don't know … if on a physical level, not mental or emotional … I'm imagining …"

She nodded again, taking a deep breath and blinking hard. Olivia knew her eyes were glassing. She bit her bottom lip for a second. But she knew that she couldn't skirt from this. Not as much – or in the same way – anymore. She wanted him to be honest – she needed to be honest too. As hard as it was.

She couldn't expect him to bear his soul to her – when she'd outright acknowledged she was never going to bear her soul to him. It was different now, though. As much as this was about her relationship with him – it was about their relationship as a couple and as parents and as a family. How she worked on – or didn't work on – her relationship with him would have implications for the kids. This needed to work. She still believed it could – it would. It was just taking a lot of work – even more than before.

"Bri …," she said. "I know … I haven't talked about it with you maybe as well saw I should've. But … I think … we've been together long enough in … the aftermath he created … that you have a pretty good idea of what he did to me."

He stared for a long beat. "You didn't let Barba bring rape charges against him."

"No," she allowed.

And his eyes kept on her. "He put his fingers in you." He said it flatly – a statement of fact. An accurate conclusion he'd drawn.

It would've been pretty glaringly apparent. She used to crave what Brian could manage with his hands. The way he curled his fingers and stimulated her so perfectly. But she hadn't quite gotten back to the point she was able to enjoy it. It was too intense now. A level of control she wasn't able to allow herself to lose even for that reward. Because it didn't feel the same anymore – even if that was more in her head.

She tried sometimes. She asked – she let him. But it'd been enough of an effort to get there that it often now it was Brian who stopped before she told him she needed him to stop. He never even made the move to drip that far and into her unless she very specifically asked for it. And then … it wasn't like before.

Just like it was still hard for her to have him touch her thighs – that she often moved his hands. Even though Brian had always used light, scraping, barely there whispering touches. And how he now never touched or guided her arms or hands after he was inside her. He just let her find where she wanted them to be – and what could be comfortable for her - and that was never pinned under his weight or grabbing for the bed frame or sheets above her head to hold onto. If anything she held onto him – and still had to work at reminding herself that it was him and to stay in the moment and to focus on what he – they – were doing. Together.

But they'd never talked about it. Still, really. Even now. The closest they'd gotten was him asking if something was OK or asking if he should stop if she made a sound – or tensed in a way – that seemed off to him. It wasn't every noise or movement now. For a long while it was. And for a longer while – still – about the most she'd said to any of his inquiries or movements she couldn't handle was: "Yes", "No", or "I need to stop."

"He did," was what she said now though with a shaky exhale. "But … it wasn't what you think."

"It doesn't matter what I think, Liv," he said, his voice betraying him slightly too. "He was inside you. The legal definition of rape."

She stared at him. His eyes were flickering and gleaning too. "It was … when I had to urinate. I couldn't … bring myself to wet myself for the first … It was just … another game at trying to break me. To humiliate me."

"He should've been charged. Maybe it would've stuck rather than this … attempted rape."

She exhaled and nodded. "Maybe. But … he would've liked me having to sit up there going over those details over and over again. He still would've won the humiliation game then …"

"So you not disclosing is OK – but me … ?" he put to her bluntly. There was an edge to it.

She shook her head. "I don't know it was OK, Bri. But … I couldn't do it. He got to me. He won. And …" she shrugged. "That's something I'm still working on living with. I know there's a hypocrisy to it."

He made a little noise and exhaled slowly.

"I understand how you feel more than you think, Bri," she said. "And I'm starting to understand … how I've been making you feel too … by not talking to you about it. By trying to protect you from it."

"Liv, you wouldn't have … you would've gone fucking running the other way even faster than you did if I'd told you – anyone – that twenty years ago."

"I don't think you're wrong," she admitted. "But … now … isn't then, Brian."

"And you're the first person who's known – the only person who knows now – who isn't looking at me with that look in your eyes," he muttered. "But I can still see … it's wrecking you too. I know."

She frowned at him and stroked at his cheek. "I just … I wish I'd known sooner. I think things could've been different, Bri. I would've understood … a lot more about some of the challenges we've had. About you. I would've dealt with some things a little – or a lot - differently."

"You mean treat me like damaged goods."

"You know that's not how I see you, Brian."

"Then how do you see me, Liv? The victim—"

She shook her head and held her hand against him more firmly. "Actually, lately, Bri, it makes me think of Benji. I see so much of you in Benjamin. And it all just makes me really sad that … you had to go through that. As a little boy. That you've had to carry it with you."

His hand came out and stroked her hair. "Don't project," he nodded at her. "Big Man's got enough shit. But he doesn't have this."

"I know," she mouthed silently but still let her forehead rest against his. To close her eyes.

"Let's change the topic," he said.

"OK," she allowed softly. "But … I want you to know that I think I'm going to go back to Lindstrom for a few sessions …"

"Why?" he asked.

She shook her head and exhaled to find his eyes. "I'm struggling, Bri," she shrugged. "It's triggering me – my stuff – a bit."

"See—"

But she shook her head harder at him. "No," she pressed. "I want to be there for you. I am here for you. How I cope with my stuff is not your fault. I just … you should know. And I just … we both know that relationships aren't my strong point. I'm still learning how to be there for you."

"I know you're there for me," he said flatly.

She allowed him a thin smile. "I just want something to talk to who's removed from the situation, Bri. It's not just about me or you or us. I'm really struggling with … understanding how to cope with what's going on with Benji too."

His eyes glistened a bit again. "I didn't know Munch would go telling Cragen."

She shrugged. "It's OK. I'm glad you're talking to someone. And I'm glad it's John. It's good for you. To you."

He took three slow breathes. "Did Cragen say how long they're sticking around?"

She shook her head. "Not really. But I didn't get a chance to talk to him that much. I'll probably get together with him this week. For lunch."

He nodded. "You can have them over for dinner or something, if you want."

"I know," she acknowledged. "But I don't know."

He just nodded again and she could feel him practicing his slow breathing. She did hers too. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Until they were insync. She stroked at his forehead and ears and cheek. He stroked at her temple and hair. And they stared.

"I keep feeling like I want to bury myself in work or get some UC assignment," he muttered. "And then I feel like I just want to get home – get in a bubble with you and the kids, like this weekend, yesterday – and just stay here."

She gave him a thin smile. "Not like today?"

He exhaled. "Emmy loved it," he allowed.

"You did really good, Bri …," she said.

He exhaled again – longer this time.

"Eileen told me Benji has his 'Hogwarts Birthday' this fall," she said.

"I don't know what that means," he muttered.

She smiled. "Me neither. Apparently we didn't read the first Harry Potter carefully enough. He got his letter to Hogwarts at eleven. It's when wizards are invited to their wizarding school."

He stared at her. "Don't tell me that's a 'thing'," he grumbled.

She shrugged. "Well, since Benji doesn't seem to get invitations to much of anything, I guess maybe it won't be a 'thing' for us. Or him. She said for some of her grandkids it was a big deal. I told her it was more than our dinosaur minds could comprehend."

"Yea. So out of touch," Brian muttered.

She rubbed at his eyebrow. "I think it was likely just another backward way of inviting us down to Sarasota."

He exhaled and stared at her. "I like this bubble – here."

"I know …"

And he just shut his eyes and focused on her touch. His forehead pressing more against her fingers.

"Bri …"

"Mmm …?"

"You're allowed to tell me what you need. And you're allowed to be vulnerable around me. I'm not going to tell anyone who you are – we are – at home. That's our thing. Or private, special, family thing."

His eyes opened and he stared at her for a long, long moment. And then he shifted on his side just a bit – closer to her. His forehead moved to press into her shoulder – his face hidden against her chest, between her breasts.

"I need you guys," he muttered. "Right now – just need you guys."

"I know …" And she rested her chin against his head, and wrapped her one upper arm around him, rocking on her side a little closer to him too. "We need you too."


	26. The Incident

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Brian glanced at his watch while Em tugged at his arm. She was really pushing it that afternoon. Had decided him showing up to pick them up at school bells suddenly meant it was playtime. Far from it. Instead it meant his work-day had been entirely fucked.

But he was doing his best to not pay her impatience much attention. Had his own impatience going on. Kept looking around. Checking out the other parents – and the nannies that a whole lot of families in this neighborhood seemed to be able to afford – waiting for their upper school kids to get let loose after the wave of littles had come out the doors. Giving all of them a wide breadth as he waited to spot Big Man. Really didn't want anything to do with any of them. But it didn't look like the one he wanted the least to do with was in sight. The little things, right.

"Daaaaaaaaaddddy," Em whined again and tugged even harder at his arm – like he was only her on some kind of full-line extension leash.

"Emily," he pressed at her sternly. "Stop it."

"Let's go," she wailed again – way over dramatic. "I wanna ride my bike!"

He gave her the eyes. "One," Brian said in full-on you're cruising mood, "your brother hasn't been released yet. Two, we're going inside when he does. Got to talk to some of your guys teachers."

"Why?" she huffed at him but let their stretched arms go slack a bit. He still kept a hold of her hand, though. She was liable to go charging off somewhere if he didn't and he didn't have time to deal with that level of kid wrangling right then.

"I don't know," he muttered. And he didn't. Because Liv had gotten the fucking call for once. And after complaining since fucking October that it was always him the school called first, she'd then promptly decided to slog whatever this was off on him because she wasn't sure she'd be able to get there.

So he was still finding himself gazing pretty pissed off down the fucking street to see if Liv was actually going to get her ass there. Glanced at his phone again to see how much time had gone by since she'd sent him a text. That she was "almost" leaving her office. Whatever the fuck that meant. He knew what it meant. He'd seen that game. One step forward and two steps back with the fucking never-ending knocks on the door and phone calls that she just couldn't walk away from.

He shook his head. Fuck. Sometimes he hated that her job – and cases – always got treated as so much more paramount than his. Fucking Saint Olivia Benson, the Mother Theresa of Special Victims Unit, if not all the fucking NYPD. In her own eyes. And he couldn't even complain about it to – anyone. Even if he said something about this self-made pedestal she'd placed herself on to Johnny – he just shot right back that he knew what he was getting himself into.

But fuck that too. Maybe he did. But Liv was at fucking supervisor status too. Needed to learn to fucking delegate better a whole lot of days on a whole lot of cases. He couldn't always be the one doing it. He had cases – and deadlines, and fucking ADAs and upwards on his ass too. Had shit that needed to get done. Paperwork. Interrogations. Staff to manage.

Liv likely thought it wasn't that big of deal. Fine. But she better be prepared for him to be humping it back to the office after she did roll in. He had shit that he needed to have in a fucking lawyer's hands by day's end – which was now likely going to be 10 or 11 at night. So she better be prepared to be the one making dinner too. For once. Be the first time in the better part of a month that she'd gotten that job. Let her deal with getting homework started and bath and bedtime routine too. Tidying the fucking living room and dining room of all the kids' crap so they didn't have to just sit in it while they attempted to wind down for the night.

Shouldn't be bitter. It wasn't like it was always like that. But it sure felt like that winter he'd been doing a lot of that kind of grunt work. And usually he didn't mind. That day he did.

And if this was some meeting with the IEP co-ordinator like she thought – then she should fucking be there. She was way more informed about all that and had a whole lot more questions and concerns and wants about all of it then he did. And she'd just handle it in a more fucking politically correct manner. Brian was just pissed off at this whole situation. He was going to be more pissed off if this was them just telling them that, "Hey, it's almost the end of the year. We aren't going to do shit all at this point. And you get to start the whole process of negotiating all of this with his middle school. Congratulations!"

Not a good conversation for today. He'd fucking lose it on them.

But he internally let out an exhale as he finally saw her turn the corner and hurry down the street. She was doing the apologetic look before she even got over to them. He hated when she did that – almost as much as when she pulled this crap. The family being the most important thing crap – until something at work popped. And something at work was always popping – for both of them. But it was just so much fucking harder for her to just turn it off and step away from it.

"I'm so sorry," she said real out of breath.

"Let's not start with the apology thing," he muttered.

"The day just got away from me, Bri," she tried as Em screeched out a "Mooooooommmmy" and decided to redirect all her energy to Liv. Let her. His arm – and shoulder and elbow – could use a break from her working to pull it out of its socket.

"Yea, well, Liv, I'm pretty slammed at work today too. Don't really have time for this either."

"Don't be like that …," she shook her head, as she worked on smoothing out Em's mess while Em worked at unpacking her backpack to show off whatever random crap had been colored and scribbled on and glued to paper that day in her classroom.

He shrugged at her. "Just hope you've cleared the rest of your afternoon or are planning on taking them into your spot. Because when we're done here, you probably aren't going to be seeing me until … I don't know, 2 a.m."

She exhaled at him and shook her head again. "Then why haven't you gone in?"

"Where am I going and who am I seeing?" he stared at her.

She flared her nostrils a bit again. "I don't know either. The principal would be my guess. So …" she gestured.

"They haven't dismissed Ben yet," he gestured back toward the playground that was funneling out the older kids now but there was still no sign of Big Man.

"They must still have him inside," she said and this time took Emmy's hand and started moving toward the front door of the school. The only door they were supposed to go in as adults and parents here.

"They didn't say what this was about?" he said.

She sighed and gave him a glance. "I kept missing their calls, Bri. The message just said they wanted to talk to me when I picked him up today. And if that wasn't possible to call and schedule a time to speak before dismissal."

He stared at her. "You said you thought it was about the IEP? Liv, that doesn't sound like IEP chat."

She ran her hands through her hair. "I don't know, Brian. It's been telephone tag all day."

"Why didn't they call me?"

"I don't know," she said more firmly and held the door open for him just so she could give him those even firmer eyes. She guided Em in after him and let the door sag shut as he held the next one for the two of them.

"Why we comin' back to school?" Em asked. "It home time, play time."

"Hopefully we won't be long, Duckie," Liv said. "We just need to talk to …"

She looked at Brian and he shrugged. He didn't fucking know. But they didn't need to because they'd hardly even stepped inside when the principal was appearing out of their glassed in administrative enclave.

"Oh …, you both came," she greeted – if that can be called a greeting. And she clutched her hands and smiled down at Em. "Hello, Emily."

Emily gave her some real stink eye. "'Ello. It home time. Where Ben-gee. He better not be in your office. He not bad almost never."

That earned a thin smile from the principal and she glanced up at them. "Emily, why don't you just go inside and talk to Ms. Jeanette. I think she likely has some pretty good coloring pages there for you and maybe a sticker – while I talk to your mom and dad."

Em grabbed onto Brian's hand. "No. I not bad too."

"She can stay with us," Liv said.

The principal gazed at him and frowned even more. "I really think it might be best if—"

"She's staying with us," Brian said. "Where's our son?"

The principal sighed. "Benjamin is still in his classroom," she said and gestured for them to follow her down the hallway. "We had a bit of an incident today that I wanted to talk with you about before Benji arrived home for the day."

"What does that mean?" Brian pressed.

And then stopped to stare into the kid's classroom as they got there. Big Man was sitting hunched under a desk. His face betrayed that there'd been tears – and likely lots of them. It was a caked, streaked mess.

"Ben-gee …," Em said and tugged away from Brian's hand, making haste across the room and dropping to her knees to stare in at her brother. Ben's teacher rather timidly got up from behind her desk and came to the door.

"Why is my son sitting under his desk – after dismissal?" Liv pressed at the two women in front of them.

"He hasn't wanted to come out," the teacher said.

Liv rubbed at her eyebrow and gaped at them. "How long has he been sitting there?"

The teacher just looked at the principal. "We had an incident," she said.

"Yea, you mentioned that," Brian spat. "You want to tell us what all this is about? Or why – when you have an 'incident' that apparently results in my kid sitting crying under his desk for what I'm thinking is a good chunk of the day, that you don't just leave messages on her phone, you get on the line to me and you tell us what the hell is going on."

"I'm going to have to ask you to calm down, Mr. Benson," the principal said. "And to watch your language."

He gave Liv a real unimpressed look and then looked back at the principal. "Cassidy," he put flatly. She just stared at him. "We have been in your office how many times these past two months? Brian. Cassidy."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said.

"Right …," he muttered and took a step away, turning his back and scrubbing at his face in an attempt to calm down. "This better not be about this Emerald kid again …"

"Bri …," Liv murmured at him and found his hand.

He let her squeeze it but didn't let her keep a hold of it. He still paced to the opposite side of the hall, resting his hands on the ledge of the window looking into that classroom for a long beat. He needed to calm down. Fuck – he hated this school. He hated dealing with this school. And principals and teachers. It was its own kind of trigger of memories of past failures of the adults around him when he was basically Ben's age. These people might be fucking failing his kid a different way – but fuck, it almost hurt more.

"What was the incident?" Liv put to the two women there. They were getting cop tone from her now too.

Brian turned enough to see the teacher just gazing pleadingly at the principal like she just wanted that woman to handle it. Made sense. This teacher of Ben's – Brian swore she was maybe twenty-five. If that. She looked Jack's age. And as far as dealing with a kid with Benji's kind of background and baggage and learning challenges – she was useless. That was his unfiltered opinion. It was likely her first teaching job. Maybe it was her fucking first year teaching. And maybe she was super stoked about getting a gig in Carroll Gardens – thinking that kids filtering in from those surrounding neighborhoods would be … easy. What fucking kids are easy?

"Some of Benjamin's—"

"Benji," Brian stressed at her. "Or Ben. We've asked you not to call him Benjamin. We filled out the fu-" he stopped himself and held up a hand before Liv did to him. "The paperwork. Benji."

The teacher nodded but shrunk from him a bit. She kept trying to just look at Liv. Clearly she didn't realize how fucking scary Liv could get when you were the one pissing her off. And they were. There'd be a tipping point.

"Some of Benji's classmates have noticed he's been missing school lately," she said.

"We—" Brian started but Liv stopped him.

"We have already informed the office why and have had his absences excused and the proper medical documentation provided," she said.

"Yes," the teacher allowed even more timidly. "But some of the other children were badgering him about why."

"It's none of their business," Brian said and spun back around to pace to the window into Ben's classroom and stare at him. Emmy was clearly acutely aware that something was wrong and was trying to cheer him up but so far it didn't look like she was accomplishing it.

"I agree," the teacher conceded. "But Benji did respond and he told some of his classmates that he's been sick and he's had doctor's appointments."

"That is not what you pulled us away from work to tell us," Liv shook her head at them.

The teacher frowned and again looked at the principal. But it only got a nod from her to continue. "One of the boys – who has been spoken with – retorted with—"

"Retorted with?" Brian glared at her. "Really? Can we please just get to the point."

The teacher exhaled. "Benji was told that 'you can't cure stupid'."

Liv gaped at the teacher and pulled at her chin. Just shaking her head.

"Unfortunately during that's not where the teasing stopped," the principal said flatly.

"What does that mean?" Liv pressed.

The principal exhaled and stared at Brian. He glared at her. "What? I'm not supposed to be here?"

The principal looked back to Liv. "During the children's lunch recess, it seems that the teasing on this subject continued and other children got involved."

"Because this classroom has a bullying situation," Brian said and gestured madly into it. He glared at the teacher. "We've been telling you that since the second week of school." And he shifted his glare to the principal. "And we've repeatedly asked you to address it and to tell us exactly what this school's policies are on dealing with it and how you're going to improve this situation for our son."

"We are trying to improve the situation for your son, Mr. Cassidy," she said.

"Please," Liv gestured with the side of her hand. "Just … what happened at recess?"

The principal looked back to her. "Benji's … apparent bully—"

"Emerald? Well, I'm glad it's now 'apparent' to you that that girl is bullying our son," Brian said.

The principal exhaled. "We have dealt with the other child involved in escalating the situation."

"And you aren't going to tell us who it was," Brian muttered and shook his head. They didn't need to they all knew exactly who they were talking about. "Are you going to tell us how you have 'dealt' with her?"

"For privacy reasons—"

"Alright," Liv said and held up her hand to just get everyone to stop. "You can tell us what happened and why our child is under a desk."

"Yes," the principal said. "I'm trying." She cast Brian a look and he just kept her eyes. He could play that game. "The child who escalated the situation among the group teasing Benji at recess decided to say that …" she paused and stared at the floor.

"Anytime now," Brian mumbled.

She cast him a look and then moved her eyes to Liv. "It was stated that Benji is 'stupid' because he likely has a STI."

Brian squinted at her. "What?"

Liv shook her head. "I'm not sure what you're saying or what anyone is implying but—"

The principal shook her head. "I'm sorry. That's not what anyone was implying." She exhaled and gave Brian a look. "The instigator said that Benji is 'stupid' because he likely has a sexually transmitted disease and reference was made to this disease eating holes in his brain, making his hair fall out and the rashes that have been visible on him lately as being evidence of this disease. It prompted the other children to runaway from him and say some more despairing things to him."

Brian could see Liv's eyes glistening at that and he reached to find her hand while she tugged on her bottom lip and stared into the classroom.

"And … this comment … about the sexually transmitted infection … that's from someone telling one of these children that I deal with sex crimes?" she whispered.

He squeezed her hand harder but it was like a limp fish in his fist. She wasn't holding back. He could feel her disappear coming off her.

"No," the teacher said a little too quietly. "It was implied he got it from his father …"

Brian cocked his head and then shook it hard. "Are you kidding me? This kid or her mother are implying that I sexually—"

"Bri," Liv said and finally did squeeze his hand back. But he couldn't stop shaking his head and just gaping. Trying to find any sort of words or form thoughts that weren't the thoughts that were racing through his head. He felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. He couldn't figure out if it was rage or a full-on panic attack that was trying to burst out.

"The commentary wasn't that sophisticated," the principal said and looked back to Liv with an exhale. "The implication was just that …" she gestured at Brian. "Benji's father has an STI and that likely means that Benji does. But there were words – slang - that were used Benji wasn't familiar with and some of the other children took it upon themselves to explain it to him. The whole thing just … added to the teasing from the other children and … extreme emotional upset for Benjamin."

"What words were used?" Brian pressed.

The teacher looked at him defeated. "I was not on yard duty during recess but my understanding is that Benji was told, 'Your dad bangs whores and now you're as gross as him and HIV-positive too with it eating holes in your dumb brain'. Then references were made to his rash and the possibility of infection and then the running away from him and name-calling."

Brian stared. "And you told him that none of that makes any fucking sense or holds any kind of truth to it," he spat. Liv squeezed his hand. The teacher and principal just looked at him. He shook his head. "Unbelievable …"

"Where was the teacher on duty?" Liv said.

"My understanding is that this mostly appeared to be a boisterous game of keep-away," the principal said. "Until the children were back at their desks and Benji was quite upset."

"Do you understand how much damage – and hurt – those words and that game can do to a child who's been through what Benji's been through, who has the history he does, and who is now having to learn to try to understand and cope with a life-long chronic illness?" Liv pressed at them.

"We have dealt with the children involved in the incident," the principal said. "And we will be having a grade-level assembly to re-address bullying and sensitivity toward other students."

"Right," Brian said. "And now we get to be the ones who take our son home and try to readdress with him that I don't bang whores, that no one in our family has an STI and that he sure as fuck does not have HIV or any kind of disease that's eating holes in his brain. Thanks."

Liv held onto his hand. "How long has he been under his desk?"

"Since their lunch period," the teacher allowed. "I tried to encourage him to rejoin the class and provided the option of going to the nurse's room or the office. But he refused to come out."

"Yea, well, I wouldn't want to look at any of you either," Brian muttered and let go of Liv's hand, pacing into the classroom and the cluster of desks his two kids were now sitting under. He eased himself down to the floor and sat cross-legged. "Hey, Big Man …"

Ben just looked at him with still watery eyes. And Emmy stared at him too. "Lil Fox is weely big sad."

"Yea," Brian acknowledged. "I heard."

Liv's hand landed on his shoulder as she eased herself to the floor too and stared at Ben. She shook her head at him. "Benji, none, none, none of what those kids were saying is true. Not about Daddy. Not about you. Not about lupus."

"Jah," Emmy said. "Lou-piss is the coolest, Ben-gee. 'Cuz you like an ani-mag-is not like a weer-wolf. And it good you an ani-mag-is cuz then you be a weel lil fox whenever you want."

Ben gave her a little smile and Emmy took it as a cue to smack against him in a big hug. He held at her a little bit but still stared at his mom and dad with watering eyes.

"I told them I'm not contagious even if any of it's true," he said.

"You aren't," Liv agreed. "And still none of it's true."

"I told them that none of it was true 'cause even if it was I'm adopted so none of it's from Dad and then she just said not even my mom wanted me 'cause I'm so stupid and gross."

Liv nodded at that but Brian saw her eyes water. "Benji, you're adopted. But I'm your mom and I wanted you so, so badly for so, so long. Before I even knew you. And, Daddy …" she gave Brian a look and he could really see her trying to hold back the tears now. "You know the photo? You know how me and Dad have known each other since we were almost J.P.'s age?" Ben gave a real little nod. "That long ago, last century, last millennium, so, so long ago – Dad told even way back then how much he wanted kids, Benji. He wanted a little boy and a little girl. You both are exactly – exactly – what and who your parents wanted. Then, now and always. OK?"

Ben's breath was shaky but he finally moved. He crawled to his mom and wrapped his arms around her and a sob came out. Liv held onto him, kissing at the side of his head and then gazing over at Brian with her own watery eyes. Ben adjusting and crawling into her lap and letting her hold him and rock him.

Emmy frowned at the scene and stared. She put her hand on Ben's back and then gazed at Brian.

"Bubba's sad," she said. Brian nodded, working at trying to keep his eyes neutral. But he knew it wasn't exactly working. "You're sad too, Daddy?"

"Yea, Em. It makes me pretty sad when people are mean to you guys," he said and touched Ben's shoulder.

And then it was Emmy crawling into his lap and hugging him. And he hugged her back. Rocked at her.

"Don't be sad, Daddy."

"Trying …," he said.

Sometimes that was hard when your hearts – and souls and tender points and all your anxieties – lived outside your body now. Out there – ready and available – to be trampled on by the whole fucking world.

The little things. The could be so fucking big.


	27. Blind Love

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia dismissively waved her fork as the Captain tried to hand Benji's season hockey card shot back across the table to her. He'd been smiling – while still practicing that not smiling routine – while reading the few stats listed about her little boy the hockey star on the back of the card.

"No," she said. "It's for you. We've got more than enough of them."

She poked at her salad that really wasn't feeling that satisfying. But she was more than trying to be more conscious about her eating and diet these days. Or just ingesting something semi-regularly – that wasn't coffee or out of a vending machine – while she was out of the house for the day. And not then packing away an 'I'm starving' helping at dinner, where as good of family cook Brian was, his staple meals didn't exactly rank on the health (or weight) conscious list either. But they were going to have to start working on that too – as a family.

The children's hospital was cycling them through all the various support paramedical people as they got them on-boarded with trying to … make dealing with Benji's illness and his coming months (or years … or life-time …) of treatment cycles and time at the hospital resembling something closer to normal. It didn't feel that way yet. It still just felt overwhelming and like a crush of information that was creating anxiety for all of them.

All these appointments and hospital time were bringing out little sides – insecurities, anxieties – that she hadn't seen in Benji for a while. It was clearly triggering him and bringing back memories that he likely didn't fully remember – but the backs of his brain and his body did. Him hiding under that desk at school had been like a ton of bricks hitting her. Taking her right back to all that time she'd had to spend with him under the table at home. To that awful closet on the awful farm. He'd been seeking her out a lot more lately. And Brian too, but it was in a different way. Either way, though, they'd had their ten-year-old end up in the bed between them a lot of nights. They'd had more nights and after-school periods where he was just a teary messy and they couldn't manage much more than to hold him. But it was creating confusion and upset for Emmy too. She didn't understand why her brother was hurting so much and Olivia thought their little girl was likely hurting a bit for attention. It was another thing they were going to have to learn to juggle and not over-compensate or else Emily might become a little resentful and jealous on top of her current confusion.

More and more to juggle and just … figure out. Like the dietician they'd been scheduled to meet at the hospital who'd given them a long list of recommendations of foods to eat and avoid with lupus. It was a yet another new layer of overwhelming that they were still trying to fully grasp.

Eliminating red meat with Brian and Benji – and Jack – in the house was going to be a chore. And replacing it with fish? About the only fish that Benji or Emmy would eat was deep-fried and slathered in ketchup or tartar sauce. Unless it was shrimp, sushi or a lobster roll. But that clearly wasn't what the dietician meant with that recommendation.

And avoiding garlic? Well, it turned out garlic was in just about anything store bought that was premade. It was a staple seasoning – right up there with the sodium they were now also supposed to be trying to cut back on even more than they already watched that in their daily life.

And making tomato sauce yourself? And then not including garlic in it? A _**quick**_ pasta dinner in a two-parents working household was no longer. And for the first time EVER her kids had completely turned up their noses at the spaghetti plopped in front of them on a weekday. It was repeatedly stated "There's something wrong with the sauce. Maybe the sauce is rotten. Did you put something extra in it? You put extra vegetables in it, didn't you? Why aren't we having garlic bread? Mom, did you forget to buy bread? _Why aren't we having garlic bread_?"

Olivia managed to stop short of telling them that they were lucky they were even getting pasta. The dietician had said they might want to work at exploring eliminating foods that cause inflammation from Benji's diet. The list had included tomatoes – and gluten. So goodbye pasta night staple in their house. Though, they hadn't quite brought down that axe yet. She wasn't entirely sure they would. She was bouncing between wanting to implement everything the doctors and the other health care professionals said – and just trying to do her own reading and research and implement the changes slowly. One thing at a time. To try to not get completely overwhelmed. And just upset both the kids – and her and Brian too – more than they already were.

Lately it felt like her and Brian were studying to take their MCAT to get into pre-med or something. Both of them were on their tablets and computers and phones on the couch – or spread across the dining room table – trying to wrap their head around pediatric lupus and what it meant for them – and for their son – going forward. And then they wrapped up that fun evening activity by usually ending up trying to wade through some of their relationship challenges and with where Brian was at. Though, he'd gotten pretty good at trying to avoid talking about it – and trying to demonstrate that he was OK and they were OK – by initiating sex at every opening he could find. And she hadn't exactly said no to any of it – mostly because she was hurting too and the approach he was taking lately had been very comforting. Just the intimacy and the closeness was helping in its own way. It wasn't spectacular sex but it was just … so nice to be held and to hold him in as close as he let himself get to being vulnerable. And that was their night then until Benji was at their door with nightmares or not being able to sleep and wanting to be close to them too.

When their family was needing that level of comfort from each other it was almost preposterous that the dietician had also waded into eliminating pretty much anything that would classify as comfort foods in their household. Completely eliminating white potatoes? That had gone over like a lead balloon. The dietician clearly hadn't noticed the white, Irish, cop who was her life-partner and household sous chef or the 10-year-old boy who would gladly live off French fries when she'd presented that idea.

Then some of it was just … insulting. The comment about salt intake, which might've just been an F-Y-I item but it'd still rubbed them the wrong way. As had the comment about sugar causing inflammation. The kids really only got sugar and treats like that on the weekends and at the holidays and special events. They rarely had anything over than orange juice in their house. There were no sweet, sugary cereals. Them getting soda was a big deal – and all the kids knew it.

At least they were doing some things 'right'. Benji loved his fruit and just tended to gravitate toward ones that were 'anti-oxidants'. And both of the kids were decent about eating their vegetables – particularly if it was salad. And apparently they were serving a lot of calcium rich foods. Though, they'd refrained from mentioning that that meant Benji pretty much just ate carrots and celery as a vehicle to pile hummus onto – and there'd been some days after school where she hadn't been below just giving him the spoon to scrape out the bottom of the container. Just like she'd only left as 'Benji eats cheese' when it'd been presented a good option. She didn't add that she could only have so much cheese in the house ever – because it wouldn't matter if it was the nice stuff or Black Diamond, Benji and Emmy would eat through it in two minutes with no concept that they'd just ingested $50 worth of what was supposed to be a special treat. And Brian was no help. He might go at it a bit more slowly – but he'd still over-indulge to the point his (refused to get diagnosed, likely) lactose intolerance had his stomach bloated to the point he looked like he was going to be going into labor any minute. So again – cheese – a 'for special' item in their house, not a staple most weeks.

It was all just going to be an adjustment for everyone. And getting two kids – who were both rather picky, finicky eaters (especially Emily) – was going to be interesting. It was going to start with her and Brian trying to set an example and normalize it. But that was taking some time and adjustment period too. Hence, salad when she really would've rather gotten some piled high pastrami on rye with the spicy mustard at this deli.

Not that the Captain was making her watch him eat a big plate of smoked meat either – not when she'd gotten the egg salad on salad. But he didn't seem quite an enamored with his meal as he'd likely hoped to be either. Olivia fully suspected he'd suggested this nearby meet-up location from the precinct for some old-time nostalgia, to get a real taste of New York while he was back in the city, and to deviate from the alleged 'heart healthy' diet Eileen had him on down in Florida that winter. Instead, he was working on a bowl of soup and a toasted turkey club – hold the mayo and bacon.

But at least he was still smiling at the hockey card like it was some sort of consolation prize. Cragen pulled his wallet out and carefully put it inside.

"Should I be expecting a basketball one too?" he asked.

Olivia made an amused sound and shrugged a bit. "Seems to be the favored item every time a team sends home their photo order form."

He gave he another thin smile. "Your trading card collection getting a little too full of Benjamin?"

She allowed a smile. "We like having them," she conceded. "I just wish they wouldn't package them as a whole deck. We only have so many people to give them to."

"Well, you might want to hold onto your collection anyway," he offered. "They might be collectibles one day."

She smiled and cocked her head. "Even with how many games we had to miss this year, he had a really good season."

"And soccer coming up for the two of them this summer?" he asked.

"Ahh …," Olivia allowed. "We aren't sure. Emmy's only so interested."

"Hard to be interested when you've got her in the middle of a field waiting to be explored," he said.

She smiled at him. "We haven't been able to get her out of the flower boxes since her birthday," she said. "That Bug Safari kit you brought for her? Thank you. She adores it."

"Just wait until you manage to get some plants to grow around her digging," he said. "Catch something other than worms and ants then."

"She's pretty happy with the worms and ants for now. And if she's got her bug collecting covered, I'm not sure we need to pay for her to do it in the middle of a soccer pitch this summer."

He allowed an amused smile to escape at that. "And Ben?"

"And Benji," Olivia sighed a little, shaking her head before looking at him. "They're telling us we need to be careful about his time in the sun and his watch his internal temperature regulation. I guess overheating and spikes in his body temperature can cause the symptoms to flare. It likely explains a lot about why he was knocked out for the count for days at a time after some of his games this fall and winter. Over-exertion."

Cragen nodded but frowned. "Are they saying you need to cut out sports?"

She shook her head. "Not quite yet. But we're …" she sighed and shrugged. "Trying to … have a bit of a rest period here while they get him started on treatment and seeing with they can get the disease more under control. Apparently his symptoms might plateau a bit too. So we didn't sign him up for the spring session of hockey. It's just the after-school program for basketball – not the intramural or team games. And we're trying to make it seem like he's making his own decision about summer sports – and sitting out."

Cragen gave her a look. "And how's that going?"

She shook her head a bit and shrugged. "Right now … fine. He's run down with … the disease and trying to get him on – and used to – all this medication. He knows it. And – it's been March Madness – even though it's now April and it's still going on … and on … and on. So the break from having to run him around to practices and games has meant he's had a whole lot of time to sit on the couch with Daddy staring at that for hours on end," she muttered while flipping through her phone.

She found the picture she wanted. And handed it to Don. It was Brian and Benji completely flaked out at either end of the couch, completely transfixed on the television. So transfixed that she didn't think either of them even noticed she took the shot. Their body language was so exactly mirrored – to the point that both of them had their one hand resting inside the waistband of their jeans – and briefs. Not exactly cupping or scratching at their balls – but getting damn close to it. Definitely looking like 100% boy in the photo.

Don smiled widely at the picture. And Olivia just nodded. "Again, zero of Brian's genetics and so Brian," she muttered.

But the Captain caught her eyes while he handed the phone back. "I don't know about that. Since Emmy's party, Eileen and I have been talking about how much of you in that little boy and little girl."

She allowed him a smile and gazed at the photo a bit, flipping to the next one and looking into Benji and Emmy's dancing eyes. They were up to mischief there. But they always were. But she handed the phone back to Cragen.

"You're welcome to flip, through," she said. "There's lots of photos from the winter."

He accepted it and stared, flipping through slowly. She knew that several would be ones she'd sent his way over the winter months. Probably some of the better shots. But there'd be a lot he hadn't seen. She knew that even the few months they were down in Florida – the kids changed so much. Sometimes it felt like you blinked and missed it – even as long as some of the days felt with it all.

"I'm told March Madness is done this weekend, though," Olivia said. "So we'll see how he does with that distraction gone."

"Maybe he'll have some new distractions," Cragen said and gave her a glance. "NBA play-offs and NHL play-offs will just be starting up."

"Oh, fantastic …," Olivia muttered. "And the new Bumblebee Transformer movie just released on streaming so that's on the weekend agenda. Likely watching it as many times as he can in the 48-hour rental period unless he can manage to pull the heart-strings at Mom or Dad enough to get it fully purchased. And I'm repeatedly reminded – daily – that Captain Marvel is in the theaters. And that the tickets – pre-sale tickets to see a movie - are on sale for The Avengers … something or other."

"I'm pretty sure it's just Avengers," Cragen said so flatly.

She let out a quiet laugh and shook her head at him. "Whatever it is, I'm still not sure what happened in the last one beyond they spent about two hours fighting and blowing things up for half the characters to just randomly disintegrate at the end of the movie," she said. "But – apparently – this next one is going to be even better than the last one. So, I can't wait to see how they top that waste of … it costs us nearly $60 to see a movie and that's if we say no to treats and we don't give into the pleading about seeing it in IMAX or 3D. Then we're talking well over a $100 to see a movie that in my previous life, Don, I wouldn't have dropped four bucks to even rent it. Or likely sat through it if it was playing on TV for free."

He gave her a smile. "Sounds like they need some more chores attached to a bigger, more stringent allowance to help out with these outings."

She rolled her eyes. "That'd work …"

"Well, it sounds like the expense might be more than worth it to me," Cragen offered and flashed the photo of Benji smiling so proud with his Science Fair medal around his neck.

She smiled too at the sight of her little boy – at one of the high moments in the rollercoaster the past while had been. "It is," she conceded and shook her head a bit. "Would you have believed that I'd end up with two little Transformer, super hero, sports, drawers-artist-crafters, narwhal-unicorn, Lego, science nuts?"

"I didn't hear firefighters or marine biologists on that list," Cragen said.

Olivia smiled quietly and poked at her salad. "Those too," she said and looked at him. "Seven years, Don. Almost eight – and there's still days I look at the two of them and it just … boggles my mind that they're mine. And at the same time – eight years ago feels like another lifetime and an entirely different person."

He gave her a thin smile. "Just a person who was still waiting to get her real job title. Mom is a big one. Made the changes you needed to. We're very proud of you – and how you're raising those two, Olivia. Everything you've done for Jack too."

She inhaled slowly at that compliment and avoided his eyes a bit. "Have you seen him since you've been back? Beyond the party, I mean."

Don gazed at his sandwich. "I did. And he did a much better job at helping me ignore the doctor's orders about diet and nutrition than you're doing."

"Sorry …," she said.

He shook his head. "He also cost me a lot more for one meal out."

She made a little noise. "I know. It's ridiculous," she allowed. "Brian is at the point that we don't do grocery staples on Saturday anymore because Jack will come over and eat right through them on Sunday. He still eats like he's starving …"

"Or like I should be expecting him to come looking for a reference to get signed up for the Academy," Cragen said.

She sighed. "I hope not. I really don't know where his head is at right now with school versus establishing his career."

"He said some architectural design firms are head-hunting him," Cragen offered.

"Yes," she acknowledged. "But so far nothing in New York is sticking. I don't even think there's any of these skate park design firms in the city. I don't get a straight answer about that. I think it's more urban design and park spaces – landscaping – he has been talking to here. And he doesn't seem ready to make the leap to living or starting his career in another city. Or state. Or country …"

"Australia," Cragen allowed. "That sounded like quite the opportunity."

"I know …," she sighed. "But … he gets agitated when I try to talk to him about any of it. I always seem to say something that's clearly the wrong thing. But any conversation we have his just him talking in circles, spinning around about joining a firm or trying to put in his own bids or this post-grad program he's looking at that'd be another two years of school."

"He showed me his thesis project," Cragen said. "The blueprints and renderings. The pitch for the entire underpass park space. I don't claim to know much about how any of that works – but I thought it was really impressive."

"I know," Olivia said. "So impressive that his supervisor has encouraged to submit it to some cities that are taking requests for proposals. But even with that kind of support about the talent he has there, he keeps floating Law School too – which I just wish he'd drop at this point in his life. Revisit it later – maybe. Carisi is no help on keeping that idea at bay. Or Alex or Trevor or Barba or Stone – all in the same place on Sunday for him to pick their minds until he gets some inkling he's heard what he wants to hear."

"Law School did get mentioned," Cragen acknowledged.

Olivia inhaled and exhaled deeply and then just held up her hand to try to change topics. "He is working very hard to limit the amount of time he spends around me – while still making sure he sees the kids every week and gets his Sunday dinner and take-home containers – because he really doesn't want to hear my opinion on any of it."

"I doubt that's it, Olivia," he said.

"Oh, I'm very sure it is," she said. "Combined with he's apparently seeing someone – that I'm not supposed to know about. Or at least who he doesn't want to talk about with me or hear my opinions on either."

Cragen stared at her. "I did not hear anything about that," he said.

She made a little sound. "Apparently Brian is the only one who gets to hear anything about that. And that anything isn't anything much. At least not that Brian's sharing."

"Is that going to be my opening to ask how Brian is doing with all this?" Cragen put to her flatly.

She sighed some more and stared at her salad with a headshake. "I can't really betray his confidence, Don."

"I'm not asking you to," he said.

She allowed him a thin, sad smile at that. "You saw him at Emmy's party."

"I did," he acknowledged. "See him. I'm not sure I got too many words out of him."

Olivia made a little sound at that and put down her fork to rub at her eyebrow a bit. "He's projecting a bit on Benji," she managed. "But we both are. Benji's school – and the situation there – is becoming the outlet for a lot of his anger. Which is making him not their favorite parent these days. But I'm glad he's reserving his short fuse for there and not when we're dealing with the doctors. And cases of beer are appearing and disappearing from the fridge at a faster rate than I'd like lately."

"Do you want to talk about any of that?" he asked.

She made the noise again – almost amused but so not. "Don … you know the funny thing is … Brian and I are good at the rough times. Getting through the dark, worst times. So right now – individually, neither of us are doing so well." He gave her a frown but she shook her head. "As a couple – our relationship – it's in … this strangely better place than we'd been for a while. It's complicated. And not easy. But .. I understand more about our relationship and how it is and the way it is. About him. And I feel supported. Deeply cared about and cared for – despite what Brian is struggling to work through himself right now. And I know Benji does too."

She exhaled slowly. "At the hospital and the appointments – before the appointments and the procedures, after them – Benji just clings to me. It's like I have that little boy again. I've gotten more 'Mommys' than I have in years. But during the actual procedure – it doesn't matter what it is … drawing blood, a CT, the IV or injection … he just cries for Brian. And then we get him out of the procedure room and he just latches on to me. He's been at both our hips for weeks. Every morning – school – is a meltdown right now. He's been in our bed more nights than not. And if we're running late …" she shook her head. "This is just triggering a lot of things in Benji too."

"Eileen and I would like to help with that," Cragen broached evenly.

She held up her hand in a quiet, weak protest but he immediately shook his head at her.

"Olivia, you picked Brooklyn to have help in the area," he pressed.

"We aren't exactly neighbors," she tried – just as weakly.

"And Bensonhurst to Carroll Gardens isn't exactly a trek either," he said. "We'd be happy to pick up Benjamin and Emily up from school and get homework and dinner started for you. At least a few nights a week."

"Don," she sighed. "You didn't need to come all the way back here to be playing nanny for us."

He made a noise at her and looked back to his soup. "I came all the way back here to get to the Home Opener game," he said.

"Right …," she allowed. "Then how long are you staying? The Mets entire season?"

He shrugged. "We haven't decided yet. But are usually back here by Easter anyway. Easter's a little late this year."

"Yeah," she acknowledged. "And right now I think we're all just counting down to it."

He glanced at her from his meal. "You're planning to book some time out of that office?"

She inhaled again. "Brian's doing some of his own spinning there. I think he definitely needs a bit of time away from the job – but he's concerned about the optics. And then he's also … he is working at trying to live in a bit of a bubble right now in his downtime. But I think I've just about worn him down into taking at least a long weekend away over Easter."

"Where you planning on going?" he asked.

"Ah …," she shrugged. "Who knows. We aren't very good at this part of family life or planning. Likely Boston. See some other city's science museum and aquarium for a change of pace."

"I was a little worried you were going to say Eileen had sold you on Saratoga and a Florida trip," he said.

She made a small noises and shook her head. "I'm at the point that I'd like to. With everything going on. We haven't taken anything resembling real vacation for … pushing three years. But with what's going on with Benji right now and the warnings they're giving us about the heat and the sun … I don't even know how we're going to manage getting through summer here and finding a summer camp or daycare situation that's workable."

"Well, again, Olivia," Cragen looked at her directly, "that's the part where you start asking for help. Eileen and I will be here all summer. We chatted with Brian's mom and have an understanding of her usual schedule with the kids and how she thinks she could manage the summer. I know John is happy to help as much as he can too. We'll see to it you're covered off – if you let us."

She exhaled some more and just stared at him. "We've talked about maybe Thanksgiving or the week after Christmas," she said because she just couldn't wade into exactly how overwhelmed her and Brian were feeling right now and how hard it was for either of them to ask for or accept help. "Maybe their next winter recess, February."

He looked at her for a long beat and then allowed. "You know the door is always open – whether we're there or not. We'll get you the key."

She allowed a thin smile and looked at food. She poked at it. "I was hoping to do the tirp – if we're going to do the theme park thing – sooner rather than later. I'm not sure how much longer Benji will really have any interest in that. And I think the window of that 'wow' moment is closing with Emmy too. I still remember – still look at the photos – of when we did the day at Disney the summer Jack was in California. Benji's awe when he met Lightening McQueen."

Cragen allowed her a little smile at that. "I'm told that as of August that place is going to be an even bigger mess of people with their Star Wars park opening. But some of Eileen's grandkids are already booking the spare bedroom to go wade through those crowds."

Olivia shook her head. "I think we've dodged the Star Wars bullet. So far. I'm not sure we'd do Disney if – when – we get down and if we included a trip to one of the parks. It'd likely be more … Universal? Super hero land and Transformer land?"

"No Harry Potter? Eileen was convinced she could wrangle you into a visit with Benji's eleventh birthday coming up."

She smiled a little. "We're working at reading Harry Potter to them. But we haven't delved into the movies yet so I don't think either of them have quite registered it as a 'thing' yet. Benji's starting to. There's been kids in his grade who've been to the parks at this point and seen the movies or read all the books or doing them for book reports. But I don't know we'd have time to hit everything. And I'm not sure I'd want to spend more than a day – maybe two – in a theme park. The beach sounds much more like a vacation to me."

"I would tend to agree," Cragen said. "But we've managed a couple of them with the grandkids. Long, full days."

"With big price tags," Olivia said. "Of course that's the first thing Brian the Miser when looking at. But at least he went looking. That's a step for him. His usual idea of a vacation is – 'We bought a house with a garden, I'm going to spend time in it' or if we're going to 'splurge' - some cabin in the mountains with a lot of bugs and no water or electricity. Also not exactly my definition of a holiday."

He allowed her a little smile – but it was really more of a frown. "How are you doing with everything, Liv?"

She sighed at him. "Which part?"

"Whatever part you want to talk about," he said.

She stared at him and felt her eyes trying to water. SO she shook her head hard – out of it. "I'm trying to make the changes that need to be made," she said.

"That's not what I asked," Cragen told her gently with those deep eyes.

She stared at him for a long beat. "I'm feeling a lot of guilt, Don. And anger too. I wish I'd pushed for testing for Benji academically sooner. And that I'd hounded them to get this IEP in place faster – rather than us having to go through it again with middle school looming. I wish I knew how to resolve this bullying situation and I'm angry that as a cop – and a mother – I still don't know how to navigate that in the school system and keeping it out of the legal system in a way that makes any sense. I wish I'd … heard Benji more when he was saying he was so tired. I thought … school and friendships and relationships … they've always been such a struggle with him. I thought a lot of it was him practicing avoidance. And I believed the doctors when they just said he was a kid with a rough start that meant he had a weaker immune system so getting so many sore throats and bronchitis and strep was 'normal'. Instead … I waited too long to push back on it and now I've got a little boy with an autoimmune disease that's progressed so badly that his lung tissues are inflamed, Don. His lungs — and they can't give us a straight answer on what that means long-term. But they can't fix it. Not like that. So I've got him on 'disease modifying' medication and pain medication and intermittent steroids and chemotherapy drugs. For months, years. His whole life. I just …" she shook her head. "I don't feel like a very good mother right now."

He reached and put his hand over top of hers from across the table. "I see a very good mother. And this past weekend I saw a little boy and little girl who completely adored their Mom and Dad and who were being doted on and cared for – and maybe more than a little spoiled – by their parents too. These are happy, loved, very well cared for and supported children, Olivia. You gave them that – and you're still providing it. You're probably much better equipped to get your family through this than you're giving yourself credit for."

"And what about Jack?" she said.

"Olivia, I care very deeply for Jack too. I know you – and Brian – have gone above and beyond in helping him enter early adulthood after a very, very rough start. But – he is an adult now."

"But is he really?" she muttered.

"Yes," Cragen said. "And he mouthed at me that Brian has given him the line about 'do you know what we were doing at twenty-five'. I'm sure he wanted me tell him something different – but I do know what you and Brian were both doing by twenty-five. And I have a very good idea what I was doing too. You have given him a long window to find his feet. At some point he's going to need to start taking steps on his own.

"I'm just not sure – actually I'm very sure – that Jack is struggling to figure out how to deal with any of it too. Everything that's going on in our home – with the kids. With Benji. He's internalizing and triggering and dealing with a lot of guilt in his own way. And I'm watching it all impact his decisions, again, about how he lives his life."

"It's his life," Cragen said. "He's his own man. He is a grown man. And he's going to have to figure it out. Or learn to ask for – and get - help – not just from Mom – when he needs it."

"The same kind of help that Brian and I are so bad at asking for ourselves?" she put back to him.

"Strong, stubborn, resilient people who are raising strong, stubborn, resilient children who are just as much of survivors as their parents, I think," he said.

She allowed him a sad smile and stared at him for a long beat. "You knew, Don. Didn't you?" she asked more quietly than she meant too.

But she did manage to keep his eyes and he kept hers. "I knew I could see a young man struggling on a few different levels – and that there needed to be a change before that affected the dynamic of my team, and the lives of the people in it and the city we are serving."

"You could've said the same for me," she said. "You threatened me with it more than once."

He tilted his head at her. "You needed SVU, Olivia. Brian didn't need to be there. It was not the right place for him."

She sighed and hung her head and rubbed at her eye and shook her head. "I don't know how I didn't see it. Sense it. All these little … " she exhaled. "There were signs. And I just …"

But Cragen's hand gripped at hers again – stretched across the table. "Olivia, I think sometimes when we care for someone that much – but are so used to being strong and living behind walls and in these bubbles – we can be blind. Not purposefully – not because we don't care – because we love them that much."


	28. Plans

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia glanced over her shoulder as she heard the bedroom door push open – fully prepared to tell her kids – yet again – that Mommy deserved a few minutes to at least get change with some privacy. But it was Brian stumbling in – his belt already hanging undone, his shirt still buttoned while he yanked it over his head, tie (still tied) in hand, undershirt riding up a bit with the amount of tug he'd had to give to wrangle the dress shirt over his head. The full-grown man she was raising children with – who still apparently didn't know how buttons worked.

He gave her a bit of a surprised look as he did get his work shirt off, righting his tank and giving her a fleeting gaze. She'd only gotten as far as getting her bra and panties back on after her shower so far. And he didn't look too apologetic about getting a glimpse of her standing at the mirror above their dresser.

"Sorry," he mumbled, though. "I thought you were still in the bathroom."

"It's OK," she allowed. It was. They'd seen each other in far less – for years. They weren't overly bashful about seeing each other with the lights on and upright – in various stages of dress – as they dodged around each other most mornings.

"I'll give you a few minutes," he said, tossing his shirt and tie in the general direction of the bed. It missed and he gazed at it a beat like he was going to step back into the room to pick it up (and maybe even put it in the hamper – but that was likely asking too much … again, of the grown man she was raising children with). But instead he stepped back toward the door.

"Actually, Bri," she called, as she turned back to the mirror. "Can you help me with this? I can't seem to get the clasp."

In the mirror she saw him gaze at her for a moment and then give the door a glance too. He pushed it back part-way shut and moved toward her – and her fiddling with the Fearless necklace. Maybe it was getting a little long in the tooth – she at least needed to get it a new chain. She'd been struggling with it lately. But that night it really didn't seem to want to come undone.

But Brian moved over to her, and moved her hair to the side – exposing her neck. She knew he was going to place his lips there before he even did it. But she still exhaled into it a bit. Smiled. It was the little things with Brian. All the little things that added up to a lot of big ones slowly over time.

"That's nice …" she hummed at him. It earned his lips moving a bit. Another brief kisses – in just the right spots – that she wished they were in a window of opportunity it could be a bit more than that. But they weren't. So again, she focused on the little things. She closed her eyes and reached to run her hand through his hair while he played there all too briefly before backing away – and his fingers stroking across her sensitive skin, this time to find the chain and the clasp. She watched him work at it in the mirror.

"Rough one today?" he rasped at her while he started his own fiddling with it. She could see the way his brow was furrowing that it wasn't just her. The clasp was jammed up some how.

Rough day was a bit of an understatement. Rough week. Rough month. Rough 2019. After a rough 2018. After a rough life. She didn't know. But she wasn't surprised that Brian had noticed it might've been the end of a rougher day – or week or case – than some. She'd barely come in the door and said hello to the kids before excusing herself upstairs – even though she could see that Brian had barely gotten in the door either when she'd arrived.

"Monitoring an interrogation most of the day. Hardly had to be in the same room as him – and just needed to get it off me," she murmured.

"I hear you," he graveled right back. And then his mouth – and maybe more his nose – nuzzled back at the curve of her neck to shoulder. "This shampoo kills me every time …" he muttered, earning another smile out of her. She wasn't unaware of his affection for the scent. It might've been a tiny added bonus to splurging more than a little on her shampoo – even if it really was just a "me" purchase meant for her limited "me" time and as an added reminder to herself (and him) that she was still actually a woman and not just a mom and cop.

Brian placed another kiss before giving her some space again and handing the necklace back around her. "Think the closure's about done for," he said.

Olivia hummed some agreement at that, looking at it in her hand now that she could see it fully. She knew it was just a matter of replacing the clasp – or replacing the chain – but somehow it felt like an end of something. Though, maybe it was also just a sign that it was time to let it go. So she set it on the dresser – for the moment. For a time.

And she shifted around to face him, finding his eyes for a long beat and then tilting up to find his mouth.

A kiss that was returned – gently. Though they both lingered. They both prodded a bit. And did some initial exploration that she knew - they also both knew – was about as far as they could go right then. Even though she felt she wanted more and she could tell he did too. But the energy didn't feel rushed or urgent. She could feel coming off him that he was drained too. It was just seeking that love and affection and comfort in the moment. That if they had more time – and privacy they rarely ever got anymore for any length of time – that they'd likely just spend some time kissing and exploring and trying to come down from their days and weeks.

But that just wasn't then. So she settled back from him and instead settled her cheek against his chest and her arms around him – feeling his arms wrap around her too. She let her eyes close again. And she breathed him in. Brian didn't smell expensive in any way – ever. But there was something about the smell of him. Even after he'd been at work all day too – he could use a shower too. She could smell that stale musk that betrayed he'd likely been in the box most of the day too – even if the ones at the District Attorney's Investigator's Offices were a lot nicer than the precinct's. They still carried this stench – likely from the kind of people – the particular kind of evil that seemed to be most of the cases that Brian's team ended up wading through before they headed into court. But she could still smell him.

Brian's musk and sweat from the day. Their laundry detergent and their dry cleaners. His Old Spice body wash that he'd never admit was what he favored and she'd never fully admit she loved the scent of the one he picked (though she might have to if he ever actually did deviate from brand or scent. But that would be very unlike Brian. They'd have to stop making it for that to happen.). There was still the hit of his after-shave lingering there too. Just this mix that was so him and had become some ingrained comfort to her. Maybe more after Lewis – as she worked at staying in the moment and trusting again. To smell and feel and see Brian. To let it trigger good, happy parts of her and her memories.

She let the hug linger and so did he. She was coming to realize how good he was about that too. And she thought – that maybe she'd thought – that again that had a lot to do with Lewis too. Even though she knew he'd been good at holding her before that too. But she'd taken some sort of ownership over it only to realize these past months how much he just needed to be held too. So she did. A long time.

She knew that a hug of at least twenty seconds was enough to draw that moment of realization from your body. That holding each other for two minutes could be enough to lull your breathing into sync. The physical closeness and the bonding could be the ultimate soother. Human beings needed touch. Her and Brian both hadn't gotten enough in their adult lives. Neither of them had gotten the kind they needed as children either.

She was revisiting that comfort of physical touch lately – with Benji. Him being sick and him being triggered. She was careful to let him hug her for as long as he needed. To be the one who initiated hugs. To let him sprawl out with her on the touch – for he could hear and see and feel her breathing – and heart – too, if he needed to. Making sure he got those twenty seconds and those two minutes – multiple times a day. And Emmy too. Both the kids – her and Brian were hugging and holding them more than usual. He held those kids like they were his life preservers some days. But so did she. Different reasons – but the same thing.

"The kids are quiet," she hummed against his chest as the clock ticked.

"I brought in the mail. Their National Geographic was there," he said. "They're engrossed."

"Mmm …," she allowed. "That won't last long."

And it wouldn't. It'd only be a matter of time before they decided they couldn't look at the pictures together. Or that Emmy wanted to read it to Benji – when he was the big brother. Or he tried to read it to her and struggled with a word and Emmy sounded it out for him. Or someone decided the magazine was theirs and only theirs. And then the bickering would start down there and one of them would be stomping upstairs to let them know what a pain in the ass the other was being. When they were both being a pain in the ass – and were consistently told the were old enough to sort out these kinds of arguments between them on their own without coming and tattling to Mom and Dad.

Brian's nose nuzzled more at the side of her head. His arms still wrapped around her and his fingers tracing little circles and wavy lines against her skin that again felt so nice.

"How you feeling about Friday Family Night?" he muttered into her hair.

"Like I need it to include a glass of wine or two," she said. "Or a bottle."

She felt him smile a bit into her hair at that. "You actually feel like leaving the house?"

She hummed – not able to bring herself to say no but also really not interested in going anywhere or doing much of anything. Not with two kids in two. Not after the kind of week it'd been. Not with just how drained her was after that shift.

"Yea … me too," Brian admitted – like he'd read her mind. But he hadn't. He'd read her body language – just like she could feel his pressed against her. He was done too.

"Have the kids been asking what we're doing?" she mumbled.

"Em is raring to go," he muttered some more. "I think Ben's about as done as us."

She exhaled at that imbalance. Sometimes your kids being out of sync was harder than when you were out of sync with your partner. At least they only had two to tag-time. But some nights that still felt like a lot of wrangling after a long day – and longer week.

"How do tacos and a giant bowl of guac sound?" he said.

"Like a whole lot of cooking …" she muttered.

"How does Compadres tacos and guac sound?" he put to her instead.

"Amazing …"

His cheek rubbed against the side of her head. "OK. I'll get changed, take Em on an outing to pick it up – avoid delivery and try to wear her out a bit more. You and Big Man can pick a movie for us."

"Please tell me it won't be Bumblebee …" she said.

"I cannot guarantee it won't be Bumblebee," he said.

She allowed a little laugh against his chest at his double-negative to what they both knew was a definitive positive.

"I can guarantee that if we can get them to bed by like nine, I will Netflix and Chill however you want to whatever you want," he said.

She looked up and gave him a smile. "I like that plan …," she said and leaned in for another kiss. The preview to the night – that they could only hope for. Because their plans – they rarely went as planned. But things … they still tended to work out.


	29. Right Moves

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Brian let Big Man work on guarding him for a good long dribble but then gave a pivot, spinning around him and taking the jump shot. Despite the height difference, Ben still put in the effort. Up off his feet, hand in the air to try to block the shot. He didn't. But Cassidy purposely hadn't squared up for the easy shot – because sometimes you needed to give the kid some.

He'd been working Big Man for the whole bit of one-on-one H-O-R-S-E crossover – making him earn his letters bit-by-bit. Worked to keep the game tight. Keep Ben motivated. Let him move and play and improve. Goal wasn't to lay the kid out on the asphalt. That never accomplished shit. Didn't need to knock the kid down that way. But game had been going on long enough that Cassidy was about at the point he was ready to lay himself out on the court for a breather.

It was about time for it anyway. The fucking infuriating beauty of New York weather. Sometimes you just didn't know what you were going to get. But spring had at least hit them like a ton of bricks lately. Still hoping it wasn't some kind of April's Fools joke Mother Nature was playing on them. All of March had definitely been one of lions. The whole fucking winter had been. Just brutal. One for the record books. But here they were – 70 degrees and sunshine and still the first week of April. Prime time to get back out on the street and park courts.

Only downside was that about everyone else in Brooklyn had the same spring fever – and the same idea of how to make good use of the up-tick in the weather. Him and Ben had gotten out to the park courts on the pier to stake a good long claim. But Cassidy could see that they were getting close to getting called out on their one-on-one occupancy of the area. And that was OK. He was starting to lag – and so was Ben, though the kid was even more loath to admit that kind of weakness than Brian was. Didn't matter, though. He was about ready to play the Dad card and call it. Sun was getting higher in the sky. Asphalt was starting to heat up. And doc's orders were they needed to be conscious of that.

So he let himself miss that easy shot. Let it hit the rim and jet off it. And Big Man was still right there with the hustle. Jumped for the rebound and went right back up to net the ball. And that smart-ass, big-ass grin of his landed right on Brian.

"HORSE," he pressed.

Brian gave him a smile and went over to him, giving him a little bat at the head. Scrubbing at the scruffy, sweat buzz cut they'd downgraded him to. And the tease got even more smiles at the kid. The minor wrestle as Ben swatted his arm away.

"Good game, Big Man," Brian told him and walked pass him to go to the backpack he'd left on the sidelines. Ben trailed after him – working at weaving and looping the ball between his legs as he did.

Brian bent and grabbed the hoodie that'd long ago been discharged as things heated up and wiped it down his face. He'd worked up a sweat. That game with his ten-year-old had likely been a bit more of a workout than he wanted to admit. But at least Ben's sports-craze kept him in something resembling decent shape. Wasn't exactly the picture of health but it did meant he didn't just feel like he was a disc jockey battling the middle-age spread. Most days. Instead most days his back, knees, heart rate and labored breathing while still trying to keep up with and play with his kids reminded him that he wasn't as young as he wanted to be anymore.

He dropped the shirt to scoop up the water bottle and savored two big swigs as he watched Ben working on his little white boy version of basketball tricks. But then shook the water at him.

"Hydrate," he ordered flatly.

Ben gave him a glance and bounced the ball a couple more times in coming over to him and taking the bottle from him, sipping at it. Brian dug out his phone and scrolled through the couple messages from Liv. Sounded like she was really loving Unicorn Day at the library circle-time thing … or not.

Brian knew he'd dodged a bullet with that one – especially since the plan had been Daddy-Daughter Day and Mom-Son Date. That's what Liv got for trying to sleep 30 minutes or so longer than their week-day alarm. Ben was already up and dressed and wanting to hit the courts before Liv had even appeared downstairs looking like she needed at least two cups of coffee before putting any thought into what her and the kid would get up to that day. So Ben had made the decision for her, "I'll go with Dad." Brian hadn't put up any fucking protest about that – he knew what the theme was at that week's library event. Him and Ben already had their shoes on and shit thrown into the pack before Liv had fully processed what parent duties she'd just been slagged with. And at that point it was way too late.

Oh well. She'd make herself enjoy it. Besides, unicorns were about as close to girlie has Liv got out of their daughter. She'd just have to embrace it. Maybe she could manage to fool Em into clothes shopping or something on the way home. There was no fucking way their girl was going to fit into any of last spring's clothes with the way she'd grown like a weed that fall. She'd just sprouted. And if they were actually going to be getting weather like this they were going to need something to put her into that weren't her brother's hand-me-downs. Though, there were definitely some Spiderman and Transformer shirts in Ben's collection that she was just itching to get her grubby little hands on. That'd likely have some nuclear fall-out.

Good thought. So he texted it back to her: "After you ladies lunch – super girl tshirt shopping, Wonder Woman". He knew Liv would be rolling her eyes right to the back of her head when she saw it. It was always a fine line about how to play those one-liners for endearing versus fucking annoying. But he'd gotten good about knowing how to stay right in that sweet spot in the grey area where she generally found him to be a charming ass.

He switched into the playlist to see if they could switch it up – or just shut it off. They'd had some tunes going on the little speaker hanging off the pack for the better part of their game. But with the growing activity around them – city that never sleeps, more than awake – could only hear it so much. Competing with other tunes that people had going on surrounding courts.

Ben nudged up to him, pulling his arm down so he could look at the screen too.

"The Clash," Ben ordered.

Brian made a sound and looked at him. "Slayer," he said.

Ben considered him. "Queen," he offered as a compromise. It so wasn't. But at least his kid had found some kind of weird Benji medium between his and Jack's musical preferences – and not Liv's muzak-jazz-piano-ballads crap.

"Drink," he nodded at him.

"You drank all it," Ben accused.

Brian put his hand on his head and gently rotated off to the water fountains. "Go fill it up. Then we're gonna get going."

He fully expected some protest – that he'd get to pull the Dad card even more. But it didn't come – likely betraying that the physical exertion of the scrimmage had been enough for Ben by about that point too. And Big Man started wandering over to the wall and the little brick building housing the area's amenities. A whole lot more amenities than if they'd just picked the park court nearest their place. At least here there were fountains and cans and a whole lot of places to sit down – and enough courts to keep multiple leagues going at any given time. Be good if Ben did decide he had some energy left in him. Could do some length of the park, hit a playground – the swing village or the slide hill. Grab a decent bite. Almost hoping he might feel up to that. But they'd see. Give him a cool down period for a few.

Brian watched the kid for a long beat. Scanned the area. Took in the other adults and kids he'd be weaving through on his way to the fountains. Checked out the kind of people loitering in the stands lining the edges of the full-sized courts. Followed where their line of sight was and clocked any concerns. Surveyed the fountains too – people nearby, in the shadows and shade there. What they were doing, where they were looking, who they might be with, what their next step might be.

But they looked mostly in the clear for the moment. Nothing hit on his spidey sense. So he turned back to scrolling through their music options – keeping Ben's trek in his perpherial.

"Micky D," he heard off behind him. "Cas-sidy."

Brian craned over his shoulder – expecting to point a glare. But instead his face spread into a smile. He turned on his heel.

"Dapper Draper," he greeted, walking over to the tall black man – an IA colleague who'd been one of the few redeeming qualities about his time there – and a towering, muscular teen-aged kiddo. Cassidy grabbed his hand, stepping into each other briefly to give a quick slap on the back.

Cole Draper gave him a smile but jutted his thumb at the court. "You and your Small Fry monopolizing this whole court, Cassidy."

"Someone just had to go calling Internal Affairs on me? You know, can't blame me. It's just all my white privilege showing. Thinking I own the place. Some real police brutality over here."

Draper gave him a little smack in the chest at that. "Still the dumb Mick, Cassidy," he said.

"Yea, brother. You know me …"

Draper shifted to jutting his thumb at the kid. "This is Archie."

Brian gave Draper a little head shake at that. Three years and that kid definitely was not the little boy in the photo's on Cole's desk anymore. But he stuck his hand out to the boy. Archie juggled the ball against his finger tips but took his hand in a good, firm shake.

"Hi," he allowed – full-on, man-child voice there. Still just enough of a crack in it that you knew his voice hasn't quite finished breaking yet. Man's body – still a kid in there. Crazy.

"Hey, Arch," Brian said. "Brian Cassidy. Worked with your dad a while back. We actually met a few Christmas parties ago. But you were like …" he waved his just released hand about mid-chest, "... that tall."

Archie made an amused sound. For a kid that would feel like forever ago – Brian knew it. To him – fuck … maybe five years. But a hell of a lot had changed in five years.

"You and the kid want to switch to some two-on-two?" Draper put to him.

Brian gave him a look. "You kidding me, brother? Let you guys run my old, Irish ass around in circles?" He shook his head. "We're actually just getting to clearing out."

Draper looked him in the eyes. "You sure?"

"Yea, yea," he said. "Have at'er."

Archie bounced the ball – maximum impact, good echo – a couple times. "Gonna warm up," he muttered and that was that. He took a couple long strides and then jogged into a full-on lay-up. Beautiful form. Nothing but net as he lay it down – just dropping it through the like it was nothing.

"Fuck, man," Brian said, looking back to Draper.

Cole just nodded keeping an eye on his son. "I know," he said. "On the local scouts radars. Things are getting interesting."

"How old?"

"Freshman," he muttered. "Fifteenth coming up."

"Jesus …" Brian shook his head. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how quickly kids grew up. He knew it. It slapped him in the face on a regular basis. But sometimes you really just got these other reminders of how much it could be blink and miss it.

"What about Small Fry?" Draper asked, turning his head to give a scan where Ben was at too.

Brian gave the area another look. Ben was waiting his turn at the fountain – tossing his ball up into a drill net, waiting for it to pop out one of the four sides to grab the rebound. There were a couple other smaller, younger kids there too and it almost looked like they were talking to each other. Sports – the ultimate equalized for Ben. About the only way he knew how to communicate with other kids sometimes, it seemed.

"Ten," Brian allowed.

Draper allowed a little nod at that. "Ball his game?"

Brian considered the best way to answer that. It was a simple question – and supposed it was a simple answer: no, hockey. But all that seemed more complicated right now. Before he said anything – for once – he got distracted. His phone vibrated and he glanced at it to see Liv's sarcastic retort. He allowed a little amused noise but just shook his head in apology to Draper.

"Sorry," he said and looked back at the man, waving the phone in his wrist. "Other half."

Draper allowed his own sound. "Now there's someone I haven't seen for a bit. Or – miraculously – anyone in her unit."

Brian made another sound at that. His eyes moving back to Ben, while Draper's stuck on Archie. Both doing the Dad thing. Watching their boys – and watching for anyone else who might be watching their boys.

"New and improved SVU," he deadpanned. "Liv runs a tight ship. Not a lot of time for bullshit or people goin' rogue on her."

"That's a change of pace for Special Victims," Draper said flatly.

"Yea, well, specialized unit, right?" he dripped back.

He got a smile for the sarcasm. "Summoned or Honey-Do?" Draper said, nodding at the phone.

"Nah, neither," Brian said. "Minor co-ordination explanation. She's out with our youngen."

"Yeah …," Draper nodded. "Your little girl. How old's she now?"

"Six, man," Brian said finding the guy's eyes and giving his head a shake again.

Draper just hummed acknowledgement. "Don't blink," he said. "Tiffany's a junior. SATs. College tours."

Brian shook his head again. "Brother, I can't even wrap my head around that. Right now I've got to try to comprehend narwhal, rainbow poop slime. That's hard enough. I mean, the fuck? Can't do dating, college, graduation."

Brian watched Ben snag his turn at the fountain and start filling the bottle. His line of sight was matched by Draper for a long moment.

"Strange to see you," Draper said, staring off at Ben too. "Your name's popped up some."

Brian gave him a bit of a look. He wanted to push out some comment about being outside IA's jurisdiction anymore. But instead mention the mention that his name had been floating around felt like a kick to the chest. Like the air had just been knocked out of him. And his face must've said it.

"Not that," Draper apologized and looked away – back to his own kid. "But heard that too. Taking the stand took a lot of balls, Cassidy."

Brian stared at the side of his head. But Draper just kept looking at Archie.

"Appreciate you doing it. Some of these creeps and perverts that end up as coaches, teachers," he said flatly. "Shouldn't have that shit happening to kids. Shouldn't be able to go on as long as it does."

Brian looked at Archie. Ben had wandered back over and was working at packing their backpack back up. But Archie had spotted him and done a bounce pass, engaging him in a bit of chit-chat and them both bouncing up and down, hitting the ball off the backboard and snagging the rebounds only to go up again. It was a decent drill for a kid Ben's age and height and skill level. Likely beyond basic for Archie even as a warm-up.

"Arch OK, Drap?" he asked.

He shook his head out of it. "Yea, yea," he muttered. "Just was a bit of a scuffle between some parents and the coach in the intramural he was in for the middle school kids. It got sorted. Archie wasn't … . You know … cop father …"

Brian just looked at him but Draper gestured back to the kids. "Actually meant I'd heard some talk that there might be a spot over at your office opening up. And the talk was that it was you and FMLA related … to one of your kids … ."

"Ah …," Brian said and stared at Ben – measuring how sick he might look to an outsider that day. Brian didn't think it did. Much. Ben was having a good day. Even as a parent – with a good read on his body language – Brian was buying that Ben was holding his own. "Think that sounds like a lot of old washer ladies down at the river …"

Draper caught his eye. "Yea?"

"Sure," Brian said. Because he didn't know he wanted to get into it. It wasn't exactly public knowledge. And it was kind of private, personal information – not his. Ben's too. Who and how they shared that – now and forever – was going to have to be carefully measured. "Why people flapping their lips about that? Someone looking for a job?"

Draper just kept his eyes at that and Cassidy gave it some long scrutiny.

"Really?" he squinted. He rubbed his thumb across his eyebrow while he went back to watching the two boys too. "Didn't you get the promotion after Tucker transferred?"

"Transferred to the Investigator's Office," Draper said.

Brian made a sound at that. "So? And what? You got the rank, Drap. You don't need to be hanging onto his coat tails, brother. More than earned the gig. Being his right-hand man all those years. Keep making it your own. Investigations your way."

"A lot of years, Cassidy. Maybe it's time for a change," he mumbled.

Brian sighed at that. Heard him. Could see how if he had two kids in high school and one almost in college putting in for his pension, taking the state pay and just reflecting on what's next with getting through the next decade of your life and raising your family entailed would be on your mind. He knew he thought of that sort of shit himself all too fucking regularly. You almost had to with kids. Give you a bit of a different moral compass. And just life goals.

"Yea, well, Drap, maybe it should tell you something that your rabbi barely lasted a year over in our offices before putting in for some real retirement."

"You're sticking it out," Draper said.

Brian shrugged. "Yea, man, but the shit that changes, also stinks the same. Different job but still doesn't make you feel all warm and fuzzy about the justice system or investigative abilities of a lot of New York's Finest."

Cole made his own sound. And Brian looked at him again. He rubbed at his eyes again as he watched his kid. Watched Draper's kid.

"Real doubt you want me as a boss," he allowed. "But there might be a spot opening on my team in a while." He got a glance at that. Brian shrugged. "There's a position-hold on maternity leave. Coming to an end. About a month. She hasn't given the official notice on what she's doing yet. But I really doubt she's coming back. Can't say how anything would play out – but I at least get some say and sway in the whole hiring process. And pretty sure the guy who's been backfilling her is counting down the days until he can transfer out."

"That bad?" Draper said.

Brian made a sound and stared at his boy again. "Human trafficking … in this city … is … just fucked up, Draper. More than you even think you know. We land a lot of stuff that sends us into the deep, Dark Web during the investigative follow-up. That's just … shit that's hard to get out of your head."

"Sounds like the lip wagging might only be wrong on the FMLA," Draper said. "Seems like the Investigator's Office is just lining IA transfers up and burning you out lately. Ed, you. Sanity leave?"

Brian squished at his eye socket. "Nah, man. As fucked as it is – distraction of the job, that's my sanity. And it pays the bills, you know?"

"Yea, guess Daddy Duty didn't work out the way you wanted," he muttered.

He shrugged. "Did and didn't. I mean, they're both in fucking school now, what would I do at home? Just be June to my Ward?"

"Warden," Cole deadpanned at him.

Brian gave him a thin smile. "Brother, the won't-be-my-wife and kids are the lights of my life."

"I hear ya …," he muttered again.

Brian gave his shoulder a slap and started a way from him. "So keep in touch. Can talk 'bout it more if you want."

Cole gave him a shrug at that and instead pointed at the hoop. "Sure you don't want to …?"

"Drap, my knees are killing me. Nah," he said. "Your turn to feel the pain." He gave a jutted chin in the direction of Archie and it got a quiet amused sound from Drap. Brian tapped at Big Man, though, and then managed to take the ball from him. "Time to go."

He didn't wait for protest or comment. Didn't get one. Just grabbed the pack – grabbed his deck and nodded at Ben to get his. Ben barely had to kick it to get the skateboard started rolling and he'd jumped on it, starting to pedal off to the gates.

Brian instead dropped his to the ground in a clatter and stepped on. Give himself a couple good pushes and nodded at Draper, who was shaking his head.

"I know," he nodded again. "Complete ass-hat."

"Wear it well," Draper called at him.

Brian allowed a little sound of amusement and gave a couple big pushes to get caught up Ben. For him – absolutely didn't care what kind of hat he had to wear. As long as he was able to keep up and keep him in his sights. That's all that fucking mattered.

He pushed by Big Man as they got onto the bike path – balancing the ball on the kid's head as he did. It rolled off and Ben caught it, stumbling momentarily on his board and then hopping on again and pushing quick to get back up next to him. Brian gave him a gently nudge and a smile as they rolled along.

"Where to next?" he said. All that mattered. The next and the next and the next. And figuring out how to get there – with him, for him. Fatherhood, childhood … where to next?


	30. Unpredictably Predictable

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Brian let his feet fall to either side of the skateboard, coming to a stop and positioning himself in front of Big Man to get him to slow down. The kid sidled to a stop, giving him a good bit of stink eye as he did.

Big Man and his stink eye. Be interesting to see how that evolved over time as his face and body changed and grew. But didn't get the impression it was going anywhere. Stuck on him since he was a pre-schooler and definitely had picked up pointers on how to appropriately execute it under Liv's tutorage. She was more than an expert at it too. Multiple versions of it. One for every fucking occasion from just annoying her to royally pissing her off. Special editions for him versus the kids versus her co-workers versus perps.

But he was pretty pro ate ignoring them – no matter if he was getting them from Liv or Ben. So Brian just gestured over at the grassy space next to the path.

"Let's sit for a few," he said.

He didn't wait for agreement. He just tossed his deck over onto the grass and sat himself down – staring off at the water. Enjoying the view and the breeze of it, as he shucked off the pack and worked at unzipping it.

Ben might not want to admit he needed a break – but he could see it. Called it. He'd likely be calling it a day after this rest period too. Probably by Uber. Weren't likely at the point that it was too smart to get the kid to boot it home. Or even hop onto transit. Didn't want to push it.

Ben plopped his skateboard down next to him and sat down. He planted his feet in front of him and then leveraged himself so the wheels rolled him slightly back and forth.

"Why we stoppin'?" Ben stared at him.

"Need a break," Brian muttered, digging Ben's hoodie out of the bag.

"We're almost to Fireboat Ice Cream," Ben said. "You can rest there."

Brian gave him a look at the not-so-subtle ice cream order the kid had just put in. "That so?" Ben shrugged at him. And Brian just shoved the hoodie at him. "Wipe your face," he ordered.

And Ben's face changed a bit at that. There was some betrayal there that the kid must've known just how flushed he was becoming in the sun and warmth – and all the physical exertion they'd put in that morning. But he hadn't been ready to admit that to himself - or to his dad.

Show no weakness. Big Man tried. But it was hard when you were a walking mark in so many ways. Seemed like the kid always had been – as long as Brian had known him. Flashing sign above his head saying 'vulnerable'. And he sort of felt like that wasn't something him and Liv would ever really be able to fix for him. It just didn't feel like anything was clicking to give Ben an 'easy' life. They were just giving him more resources and support in trying to help him deal with the cards he'd been dealt.

Big Man listened, though. He ran the material up and down those bright red cheeks of his. That raised shape that was starting to create a butterfly pattern if you looked at it the right way. And then he looked at Brian.

"Is it gone?" he asked.

"It doesn't work that way," Brian said.

The kid knew that. But it didn't stop him from asking - or hoping - every chance he got. Brian was still steadying himself to field those questions – and to give the same, even, predictable answer – for the rest of his life. Or until they found a cure to this thing. Which didn't sound like it was going to happen in his lifetime … or Ben's.

He reached and felt at Ben's forehead and then rested the back of his hand against either of the kid's cheeks. They were hot and clammy. Some of it was likely just heat and the movement and exercise.

"Honestly," he nodded at the kid. "How are you feeling?" Ben shrugged at him. And Brian shook his head. "Those kinds of answers don't work, Big Man. Talked about this. You need to tell me and your mom – honestly. It's the only way we can help you feel your best and be best able to do the things you want to do."

"I thought I felt good," Ben said quietly.

Brian allowed a little nod. That was a reasonable answer. He thought the kid was feeling pretty good too. Thought he'd been doing pretty good. And him and Liv were both still learning to really spot the signs and symptoms of when he was starting to lag and drag. When something might be triggering and flaring up. When, where, how, why to call it. It was a fucking confusing and convoluted balance. You knew your kids – but it was like this had just thrown a wrench into everything they thought they knew. It was so fucking frustrating.

Brian opened the bottle of water, pouring some out onto the hoodie.

"It's getting pretty warm," he provided. "You're likely overheating."

Brian dabbed the damp material on Ben's face. The kid got the message – the lesson. Took it from him and held and wiped at his cheeks and forehead himself.

So Brian let him. Him and Liv were still learning. Absorbing. Researching. Trying to figure it out. And then trying to figure out how to talk about it all to Ben. How to teach a fucking ten-year-old self care and self advocacy in all this. It was just … something you never imagine – or at least you really fucking hope – you never have to deal with. But he was pretty much reminded repeatedly that parenting wasn't entirely what he expected or hoped or imagined. His kids were far from perfect and neither of them were anything resembling easy. Their family wasn't a fucking cake walk. But then more days than not he also got those little reminders of why he wouldn't fucking trade it. How much better his life was than he'd ever imagined it'd get to either. It's all a trade off.

Brian shifted his focus to digging out this little emergency packet of flavored electrolytes that they'd been given at the hospital for just this kind of thing - with the change in weather, with Ben's affinity for sports and just little boy activity. Doing this right then and there in front of Ben was going to destroy any chance they had of getting him to believe this was anything resembling Gatorade but he still ripped up the packet and shook it into the water bottle, tightening the lid and giving a good, hard shake.

He pulled the hoodie down off Ben's face and held the water at him. "Here," he said. "Drink. All of it."

Again – no arguments. Again – indication that the kid was hurting more than he was willing to let on. But Brian just watched him take the initial tepid sip. It mustn't have tasted awful because after a couple of lip smacks, Ben sucked back a bit more. And Brian wadded up the hoodie and dabbed a few more times at the kid's cheek and forehead while he did.

They sat then. He let Ben work at the drink and he went between checking on him and just checking out the activity in the area and on the water. This was a busy area of the park. Figured – nice day. Brooklyn Bridge Park was always busy anyway. Usually a bit quieter at this end of it. But still.

"Does this mean we're goin' home?" Ben asked between his swigs.

Brian took his turn to give him a shrug. "Least going to go somewhere that's out of the sun," he said.

He got some evil side-eye with that comment – but didn't get a comment out of the kid. He just kept rocking on his deck and sipping at the electrolytes disguised as some sort Blue Berry Blaze. Brian was pretty sure the only thing in the name was representative of the taste of the actual product was the blue color. But at least Ben wasn't complaining. That was a good sign, because he figured they'd be making him suck back a lot of the stuff at least this summer while him and Liv both freaked out about this lupus shit and completely overcompensated while they worked to get a handle on what it meant for their kid's life – and ability to exist in summer weather and participate in sports or any kind of physical activity.

"There's shade at Fireboat," Ben told him again.

Brian gave him a look. "So you're tellin' me that you've got your Big Boy pants on when it comes to doing the egg hunt at the Fire Museum, but you're definitely not grown enough to have moved beyond Fireboat Ice Cream?"

Ben gave him a real pleading look at that. "Dad, it's so awesome there," he really whined.

Brian gave a little sound of acknowledgement. He wasn't going to argue that the old fireboat house was a sight to be seen. Though, he might argue it was more than a little tragic that the building site had been turned into an ice cream parlor. But at least they hadn't gone and torn it down while revitalizing the area and building this sprawling waterfront park. He'd forgive them that too, though. Since him and Liv had spent a whole lot of Saturdays and Sundays with the kids crawling along the river – taking in the playgrounds and water features and playing fields and green spaces and little beaches. And there'd been more than a few times with small kids in tow they'd been grateful that a lot of the buildings along the docks and waterfront had been converted to food stops – with bathrooms, A/C and shade. And something to hold over growling tummies if they'd ended up out longer than the snacks they'd packed fed their little monsters for.

"And it's so hot maybe the fireboat is actually out practicing," Ben stared at him even more hopefully.

"We aren't having ice cream for lunch," Brian put to him directly.

"We could get a banana split," Ben tried. "That's fruit and milk. It's like a meal. Mom always says."

"A meal for a small army," Brian said. That was an understatement. Their banana splits were fucking huge. With the price tag to match. It was definitely a FAMILY treat – even taking the 'is it an appropriate lunch to feed your kid' argument out of the equation. "There's only two of us."

"Mom can't say no," Ben said. "Not to Fireboat butter pecan. That's what she says."

Brian looked at him. "Mom's not here."

And it was also the reason why they were usually selective about when they wandered this far in the park. Between fireboats on the water, a fireboat house and their ice cream – they were stuck in the spot for even longer than they were at the slide mountain or the swing village or the boat playground or the water-works maze. Made worse by Liv and ice cream.

Liv was fucking awful about saying 'no' to ice cream requests – because it was pretty much her comfort food, soft spot when it came to treats too. And then she wondered why they had to drop $40 on a fucking ice cream cake for a child who turns up their nose at actual cake.

Brian didn't think she grasped that that was all her. A whole lot of nurture versus nature went on there in Em's birthday cake refusal. Because Liv was the fucking same and she didn't even realize it. If there was cake and ice cream on offer – she'd always take the ice cream over the cake. And if she had cake – it'd always be deep chilled cheese cake. Their fucking dessert of choice at Christmas – CHRISTMAS – was still candy cane ice cream. These were people he called family. There was something wrong with them.

It got a big fucking huff out of Big Man. He could tell he wasn't going to win that fight. Maybe if he'd tried after they ate, Brian might've conceded to sharing a cup. Maybe. Maybe if the kid was right and when they got up a bit farther the fireboat was actually out on the water spraying out the houses. Something to keep the kid still and transfixed for – as long as the boat stayed in his line of sight. Maybe that might still happen. Depending on how Ben rebounded in this rest and depending on where they ate. Though, he was still leaning toward heading back to the house.

"We could go to Spyscape," Ben said completely randomly while staring down at the water. "That's inside."

Brian rubbed at his eyebrow and looked at him sideways. "What's that?"

"The spy museum," he said. "It's supposed to be so epic. Emit's family went. He said it was."

Brian grunted and went back to looking at the rest of the people staked out in the pocket of grass here. There were some Millennials not far off that were working on turning their makeshift picnic session into a pretty full-on make-out session. They might have to shift spots. Neither him or Ben needed to looking at that show.

"Where's it at?" he muttered, pulling out his phone to check for himself.

"I dunno," Ben said. Surprise. It could be a fucking different city or state. "Near the other museums."

Brian grunted. It wasn't. But either way he didn't feel like trekking over to Manhattan at that point in the day. And the price was a fucking turn-off too. Fuck – he hated the price point of museums. It was such a fucking ploy for families raising their kids in the city.

They made you feel like you just should get the fucking annual membership. Because you might as well if you thought you'd hit the place more than once in a year. But then there wasn't any fucking crossover. So you ended up dropping hundreds of dollars on whatever museum membership and then the zoo membership and then the science center membership and then the children's museum membership and then … etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

And the reality was in their family they could technically afford to do that – so they usually ended up doing that. Because you really only ever wanted to spend so much time locked in a house with the kids – especially in a winter like the one they'd just barely survived without the lot of them ending up in the cuckoo's nest. And sometimes you needed a change of pace from the library, Y and the pool and the ice rink.

But, fuck, the museums never felt worth it to Brian. It turned into a whole day – usually nearing from hell. The kids off the walls about going. So excited no matter how many times they'd been to the place. And then getting them there – in the dead of winter on transit. Or driving and having to find and pay for parking. Only to be truffed into a building full of other New York parents trying to escape their limited square-footage with their own off-the-walls kids. And the tourists. That was worse.

So you could never see much of anything. And not at the proximity the kids wanted to push to. So then you waited. And then you finally got up to something and the kids wanted you to read every fucking tiny, lettered word on every fucking placard and then didn't want to listen to what you were reading. But did want to ask sixty-million questions about what they'd just had read to them but hadn't heard one bit of. Apparently you should just be able to explain all of it to them out of your vast Encyclopedic Dad knowledge. He'd become pretty expert at pulling random facts out of his ass. And retaining even more random shit that these kids of his seemed to care about. And Liv was even better at it than him. Because museum shit was actually something she enjoyed. Though, he got the sense she enjoyed it less with Em and Ben in tow than she would if she was getting her own time in MoMA or the Met and the Guggenheim. Those weren't high on the rotation of ones they ever attempted with the kids yet. But she still got out to them sometimes – with Jack, who seemed to have some kind of interest in that shit too. Just in a different way than Liv. But they could definitely go and have at it together. Keep him and the kids out of it.

Because on a typical kid museum day - you manage to get through the two to four hours of that shit before people were complaining about being bored, having tired feet or being hungry. And then your significant other decides that since you'd already technically paid for the museum months ago via your sixth annual membership that winter – that you might as well treat yourselves out to a lunch instead since you 'saved' on the admission cost.

So when you're leaving she casually drops it'd be nice to go into some bistro or deli or diner. Only it's almost guaranteed she'll pick a bistro – because she wants to eat something that resembles adult food. Or brunch – in Upper East or Upper West Side Manhattan. Then you're stuck sitting there with your over-stimulated and over-tired kids – not really enjoying family time any more at this point. And you're dropping another … who knows how much … on a still probably sub-par meal at that area prices – meaning it was always trying to be way too high-brow for what it is.

God. Brian fucking hated museums.

"Museums are a bit of an all-day thing, bud," was all he said, though.

Because Ben didn't need to hear the rest of it. Just like he mostly kept his mouth shut – or gave an extremely truncated version of his museum distaste – to Liv. Add it to the list of compromise things. Relationship, family and co-parenting had involved a whole lot of that. With two incredibly stubborn people who genuinely sucked at real adult relationships. It'd been a fucking interesting journey. Without an end in sight. Pro and con right there. More compromise.

"It's still morning," Ben tried. "Like you said, we haven't even eaten lunch yet."

Brian grunted again, still looking at the site. It looked less awful than other museums he had to endure. Though, it looked less like a museum than it did one of these interactive, over-stimulation zones that were popping up all over now. An 'experience'.

The phone vibrated, though, drawing him away from his examination of educating himself on this next potential trend that 'everyone is talking' about in the not-quite-tween crowd. It was Liv. She wanted to know where they were and if they'd eat. He quickly keyed in a response. Guess that meant that her and Em were done with library crafts. And Emmy's disposition didn't have Liv in any mood to attempt some shopping or lunch – presumptively.

"Think it's something we should save for your spring break," he muttered as he gave her their location. "We're gonna do a few family days then. Couple weeks."

Ben gazed at him. "We're doing family days on spring break? Like with you and Mommy – not Gramma or Jack?"

Brian grunted again. Liv had texted him back almost immediately. It sounded like they were going to be heading their way. He made himself put the phone away then – give Ben his attention. Since the one-on-one was on a time limit now.

"Yea," he allowed. "Me and Mom got a couple days off. We'll see how you're feeling after you IV, bud. But we'll get up to something."

Ben sagged a bit on his propped up knees at that. "Maybe I don't need another IV …," he said, giving him a real sad look.

Brian let out a little sigh and found his eyes. "You do, Big Man. Doctor's orders."

"But I've been kinda better …," he tried. "Like today." But then he swiped again at his cheeks like he hoped that might disguise the red still glaring there.

Brian shook his head. "Benji, bud, I wish that was how it worked too. But it's not. OK? It's still going to be a bit before the docs have got everything under control and leveled out for you. And then we've got to keep putting in some grunt work to make sure it stays that way. Right now we've gotta stay the course. Tough it out. OK?"

He saw Ben's eyes glass a bit at that and he looked away, rubbing his eyes against his folded arms resting on his knees. Brian reached and rubbed his hand across his slumped shoulders, giving the base of the kid's neck a squeeze.

"It's gonna be OK," he told him.

"It's not," Ben whimpered but added, "Emmy's way too little for it. For Spyscape."

OK. Pivot. Avoidance. Complete yo-yo with Big Man. Story of their lives lately.

So Brian just allowed a sound of acknowledgement. He'd noticed that scrolling through the site. Way read actually he got the impression Ben might be a bit young for it too. Not that Ben would want to hear that if 'everybody' was starting to talk about this fucking place. But he definitely suspected Big Man's reading ability was likely below him being able to enjoy it and move through it in any kind of expedient manner.

"And, Dad, it's Boys' Day. Right? And I get to pick on Boys' Day."

Brian rubbed at his back some more. "You were supposed to be having a time with your Ma day. You picked basketball instead."

That got a shrug under his hand.

"So made your choice," Brian recited.

"You said, 'Thank you!'," Ben mumbled. "You said 'a guy can only do so many unicorn crafts.'"

Brian shook his head, rolling his eyes while he gave the back of the kid's head a stern look. "That's not something you go repeating to your mom or your sister."

"Mom always says you need to learn when to just keep your mouth shut," Ben said.

"I think that's a line she's giving to you, Big Man," Brian said.

"Nooooo," he shook his head and it rose. He looked at him. Brian could tell some tears had spilled out of Ben's eyes. They were still glassy and red, damp pools just blotted under them. "I've heard her say it to you. 'Brian, has anyone ever told you to just keep your mouth shut?' And then you always say, 'Everyone – you – all the time.' And then you both usually get all mushy, kissy face."

"Thanks for that little rendition, Ben," Brian said. "Clearly we don't need to get your hearing checked. Getting better at keeping your ears clean, are we?"

Ben tilted his head at him. God, the kid looked so much like Liv when he did that. He had so many of her little mannerisms down pat. It scared him. Two Bensons always trying to keep him in line. And two Bensons for him to try to reel in from their high horses too.

"Dad, please," he whined again. "You'd be really good at Spyscape. Emit said you go puzzles and solve a mystery and go through a laser minefield and all kinds of stuff. And it figures out what kinda spy you are. And you were undercover so you're basically already a spy. Right, Dad? So we'd probably end up like spymasters or something … really epic! Like even better than Emit and his Dad!"

Brian allowed him a small smile at that over-excretion. But then dabbed the damp hoodie against the kid's flushed, red face again. "Another time," he said. "Promise."

Ben huffed out some major deflation at that and just sat there again. For a bit.

"Dad …?" he tried.

Brian hummed enough so the kid knew he was still listening.

"What'd you do when you were undercover?"

He shrugged. "Most of it I was working in Narcotics. So pretty much making arrests – cases – where people were selling drugs."

"So you pretend to be a drug dealer?"

He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder. "Not really," he allowed. "Sometimes I had to pretend to be someone … that the drug dealer would wanna be friends with. You know? So I could learn about him."

"Like learn what?" Ben asked.

"Ah," he scrubbed at his eye, trying to figure out the best way to answer that for a ten-year-old kid. "Like where he's getting his drugs from. Who he's selling them to. That kinda stuff. Sometimes I just had to pretend to be someone who wanted to buy drugs. It depended on the case. Every case is different."

"But you didn't really do drugs. Right? Just pretend?"

"Don't do drugs," he agreed.

Ben considered that – considered him. "You always worked drug dealers when you were undercover?"

"Not always," he admitted. "I had some special assignments. So that'd be other stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

Brian exhaled a bit. Didn't really want to go there. Not with the 'banging whores' can of worms and salt in the wound that were still stinging lately. And it was such a fucking piss off. It's not something you ever want your kids to know. It's not something he wanted to revisit with his relationship with Liv. And even getting beyond that – that assignment meant he fucking helped bring down a whole lot of people. And it gave him an inside track and know-how that got him this gig as an Investigator.

Fucking Manhattan's District Attorney's Investigator's Office's expert on human trafficking. Not exactly a job title he ever wanted to aspire to. But at the same time – he fucking knew he was helping a lot of vulnerable people. He had helped a lot of vulnerable people – protected them – over the years too. And that fucking one mistake – that wasn't nearly as much of a mistake as people made it out to be. It was an err in judgment. It was … a whole lot of things. But it wasn't him being a fucking john. And it was a short-lived, one person thing. And it was a long fucking time ago now. And it was still always going to hang over him in some way.

"Lots of things," was all he said. "Wherever they needed me."

Ben stared at him. He hoped against hope this wasn't some kind of fishing expedition as the kid's mouth opened again: "Dad …"

Brian gave another little grunt, nodded for him to ask … say … whatever it was.

"Does lupus mean I can't be a cop now? Or a firefighter?"

Brian exhaled a bit and put his hand in the back of Ben's hair. "Me and Mom are going to help you figure out a way to do whatever it is you think you want to do. Promise."

Ben slumped a bit. Could see him thinking. "You didn't always do undercover. Right?"

Brian shook his head. "No."

"Mom didn't do undercover," he said.

Brian shrugged. "There's been some times where your mom has gone undercover but it's different. Just a day here or there. I was 'an undercover'. So an assignment could be … weeks, months. Longer."

"But you weren't 'an undercover' when I was born," Ben said.

"Ah …," Brian did some mental math. "I was an undercover and undercover about when you were born. Likely. But when you came home to your Mom … I was just at the tail-end of some Disability Leave. From when I had that surgery after I got shot."

"'Cuz you were always in your uniform when I was little," Ben said.

He gave a nod. "Yea," he agreed. "I did some time as an officer assigned to the court house. So you're likely remembering that."

"You'd come for sleepovers and be there in mornings," Ben said. "But not night."

Brian allowed a thin smile at that way of putting it. "Yea," he allowed. "I was working night shift a lot. So I'd come see you guys in the mornings. But that wasn't too long, bud. I started working for Captain Tucker—"

"Mother Tucker …," Ben said and gave him a big grin.

Brian shook his head. "That's also not something you repeat around your Ma."

"She knows you say it," he said.

"Doesn't mean you got to go repeating it," Brian stressed.

"And now you make sure everyone did their job in building a case that can appear before a judge and jury and get a guilty verdict," Ben said.

"There's some good recitation," Brian teased.

"I don't know what it means really," Ben said.

Brian shrugged. "Not much. That I look over all the evidence and all the interviews and interrogations the cops did. Sometimes I talk to all those people again. Go out and see if I can find new, extra evidence. It's just making sure the jury gets to see and understand everything in a way that makes it really easy for them to agree that this person needs to go to jail."

He could see Ben trying to process that. "But you're a boss like Mom?"

"Yea," Brian agreed. "I usually just boss people around like Mom. Tell them to go out and do all that stuff."

"But you aren't a cop anymore," Ben said. Or asked. Brian wasn't sure.

"I'm not NYPD anymore. I'm still a cop in a way. It's hard to explain. But yes and no – I'm a cop. I'm law enforcement."

"But you can't be a dirty cop anymore if you aren't really a cop. Right?"

Brian gazed at him – hard. "I'm still really a cop. And I have never been a dirty cop."

Ben blinked at him a couple times. "Even when you were undercover?"

"No, Benjamin," he said firmly.

Ben blinked some more – hard. "Is Mom a dirty cop?"

"Absolutely not," he said even more firmly. "If Emerald – or her mom – are running their mouths again …"

Ben exhaled and stared at his toes digging into the mud. "What's dirty cop even mean? Like because a cop did something gross?"

"Ben, it's when—" but he stopped himself. He made himself think before he said more. Before he got emotional – and hot-headed – about it. Before anything about that kid – and really that kid's fucking loud-mouth, bitch of a mother who was constantly (and so fucking loudly) talking out of her ass – ignited his short fuse. "Why do you want to know?"

Ben fidgeted a bit. He rocked on his skateboard. But Brian just kept his eyes on him hard.

"Emerald said that I don't have your last name 'cuz I don't want anyone to know my dad is a dirty cop who bangs horrors …"

Brian stared at him and put his hand on his back around – rubbing it trying to calm him.

"Benj - that kid hasn't got a clue what she's talking about," he said evenly. "None of that is rooted in any kind of reality."

Ben rubbed his cheek against his elbow again. "Then how come I'm just Benson?"

Brian gave him a little nudge. "Because Benjamin Benson is a pretty kick-ass name."

It earned a little smile out of the kid but it was wishy-washy.

Brian sighed quiet like. "I don't have a good answer for you, Ben," he allowed. "The long answer is that it was a complicated chat between me and your mom and Jack. And the short answer is that me and Mom just dealt with so much legal paperwork and family court judges and lawyers – we just needed a break from it. And we decided to just leave it. Let it be. For a while."

A while. There hadn't been a timeframe set on it. When Benji was older. When he could have his say. When he started asking questions. Apparently they were getting there. And that was a good and bad thing. It was going to open another can of worms and discussion and debate in their family – when they were already dealing with a shit-ton. But it was long fucking overdue. Brian hadn't been thrilled with the way it was left. Another compromise that hadn't felt like much of a compromise from other parties. And there'd been a party – Jack – involved in the talks that he would've preferred not be involved. Hopefully if they were going to get into it again now – some years down the road – Jack got way less sway and no veto in the decision-making process. Brian would likely have more to say about it this time around if Jack did. Ben was his kid. Full-stop. He'd like to have some of his stake – and namesake – in there.

"Emmy gets to be Benson-Cassidy …" Ben whispered weakly.

Brian nodded and moved his hand into the kid's hair. "I know." He really fucking knew. "But that had a lot to do with her whole adoption process, Ben. Remember, Mommy was having a rough go. After her work … accident … So …" He sighed.

"The bad man …" Ben whispered.

"Yea," he allowed. "So … it's just a paperwork thing, Ben. It's just a name on a piece of paper. You're still a Benson-Cassidy. That's a heart thing. Definitely a Benson-Cassidy at heart."

Ben looked at him with those sad eyes again. "I think I said something at school the rest of the kids might make fun of me again," Ben whispered. "But I didn't mean to."

Brian tilted his head more to examine the kid. "What'd you say?"

Ben scuffed his feet. "Promise you won't get mad …"

"Ben, there's not a lot you do that ever makes me too mad or ever really will. Promise," he said.

Ben dug his toes into the still spring-time muddy-deep freeze grass that was working at turning green. But it'd likely be a few weeks yet. Maybe by Easter.

"You seemed kinda mad …"

"I'm not mad," he said. "Not at you. I just get … upset about some of the stuff this one family is saying about our family. And then what that means for the way some of these kids are treating you. You don't deserve to be treated that way. Neither does Ducky or Mommy." And he really fucking hated that him – his choices – was the cause of the targeting.

Ben looked at him. "What about you …?"

Brian shook his head and shrugged. "People can say what they want about me. My problem is when they start including my family in any of what they're saying. That's my problem, Big Man."

And his kid's eyes just stayed on him. Measuring and processing. Looking scared and tired and curious and just fucking defeated all at the same time. There was so much about Ben's eyes that made them just hard to look at these days.

Brian sighed and pressed himself up. "C'mon …," he said. One – they needed to move over to where he'd told Liv they'd meet her and Em. Two – these Millennials in front of them looked like they were pretty close to dry humping each other at that point. He didn't need to look at that and neither did his kid. And if he stayed sitting there too much longer he was going to say something in a way that he didn't need his kid hearing. He'd let someone else get to call them out on their fucking beyond-PDA.

Ben hauled himself up too, giving him a cautious look. But Brian just nodded his head in a gesture to indicate they were going to walk. The kid trudged after him a bit. Silence. No more explanation.

But then he felt Benji's hand find his. His still little hand wrap into his. It was this … fucking magic feeling of fatherhood. It was one of the things that made it all worth it.

And it was this fleeting feeling when it came to Ben anymore. It still happened but it wasn't like Emmy who still reached for his hand every time they were out. And it was different when it was your son versus your daughter. It was hard to explain. But it was different. And it was … just … more special now when Ben did take his hand like that – in public. Because he was ten. He thought he was too old for it a lot of the time. If they were in a situation where hand-holding was demanded of them – it was Liv's Ben would usually find. Not Brian's.

So he squeezed it. He held on. Because he fucking knew it might only be a matter of seconds Ben's hand stayed there. And it would only be a matter of time before Ben reaching for his hand all casually like that would be the last time he did it. That it'd be gone. The kid would be even more grown up than he already was. And he was only ten. Still the little boy he so fucking wanted to protect. But a little boy who felt more and more grown up. More grown up than he was.

The hand stayed. They walked.

"It's kinda about that banging horrors stuff …," Ben said real quiet.

Brian breathed. "OK …" But he clocked the 'horrors' versus 'whores' pronunciation. He measured how much was Benji linguistics versus a complete lack of understanding of the word. Even though the schoolyard kids had tried to educate him and him and Liv had tried to re-educate him in trying to calm him down.

"I think I accidentally told people Mom's a sex worker … and that it's a really good thing …"

Brian rubbed at his one eye, closing them for a long beat. Walking blindly. Sometimes a lot of parenthood was walking blindly too. That was a hard reality to accept.

"Because Mom works in sex crimes …," he acknowledged.

Sometimes he fucking hated the kind of stuff they had to try to explain to their kids. The words they had to try to find to help them understand. The contexts they had to try to put these kids' past realities into to somehow normalize them. Both Ben and Em had been through realities that shouldn't be part of any kids' past or reality. And neither him or Liv worked jobs that they really wanted to have to explain too much about in any concrete way.

"But I told them … it's a good thing, not a bad thing. Since she helps kids and people being abused and hurt and stuff. That she tries to make them safe again. Costa told me I need to stop saying all that."

"Yea," Brian allowed. "That's likely a good idea."

Ben hung his head a bit. "I didn't mean to. I just didn't really … get what a horror is. Besides like … movies and stories. Even Costa laughed at me."

"You know, Big Man, it's not you fault. It's that me and your mom are raising you guys right. We use real words. We don't go exposing you guys to that kind of language. Don't talk down and dirty about people. Right? It's not a problem that you don't go stooping their level. There's nothing wrong with not being a garbage mouth or spouting off trash talk some of these kids."

"Is banging just another kind of sex?" Ben asked quietly – still holding on tight.

Brian held on too. "Yea," he allowed.

"So maybe since Emerald doesn't know what she's talking about either she was really just confused and saying like you have sex with Mom …? And that's true. So I can tell her it's true."

"No," Brian shook his head and squeezed Ben's little hand. "It's not what she was saying. And, Big Man, we just really need you to not engage with her. OK? Just don't say anything to her. And you tell us or your teacher if she's mouthing off at you. We'll deal with it."

"But it is true you and Mom have sex and Mom is kinda a sex worker … sorta."

"No, Big Man," he stressed again. "She's not. You understand right the kinda people she helps. She works in a unit that deals with 'sex crimes'. That's not the same as a 'sex worker' at all. And you don't need to be explaining all that to this kid. OK?"

"But it might make her shut up … and just leave me alone."

"Ben … sometimes bullies like this. That's just not how it works."

Ben was quiet. But his hand held onto his tight. "Dad, do unicorns mean banging stuff too?"

Brian shook his head. "What …?" he stared at him.

"You know … sex stuff," he whispered.

Brian squinted and rubbed at his eyes again. "I …" he shook his head. "OK. I don't want to know."

"You don't know …?"

Brian exhaled and rubbed at his eyes some more. "Ben, I have some ideas where this is going. But I don't need you repeating them."

Ben swung the bottle over his crotch and raised both his eyebrows at him. "It's a horn. Like a uni-horn. And girls are basically asking for it with all their unicorn stuff."

Brian held up his hand. "No," he said firmly and stared directly at him, coming to a full halt. "That is not how any of that works. Hard no, Ben. And if that's the way kids – boys – at your school are talking …" he shook his head.

This was going to show of Liv's short fuse in a heartbeat. He sighed and looked directly at the kid – because he needed to say something then. It felt like a delayed reaction would be a parenting fail. Not addressing it when it was said.

"Big Man, that's just … that's not the way we talk about sex in our family, OK? Or how we treat it. Girls don't 'ask for it'. It's a special, mutually agreed on, fully consensual thing shared between two adults who really care about each other. OK?"

Ben stared at him wide-eyed. "Sorry …," he whispered.

"It's OK …," Brian managed.

But a beat barely went by. "I don't really know what I said. I was just … explaining …"

Brian exhaled. "OK … just … what you said or how you explained it …," he sighed. "Mommy will know how to talk about it with you." Parenting fail.

"Don't tell her I told people she's a sex worker …. please …," Ben pleaded.

Brian looked at him and held his hand tight again. He gave it a small tug to start them walking over to the picnic peninsula. He had spotted a table – a coveted one with an umbrella, finally hopefully getting his kiddo a bit of shade for a while - that was just emptying if they moved quick.

"That why you didn't want to do your outing with Mom this morning?" he asked, as he got them arranged – making sure to claim the whole space, laying out the skateboards and the backpack to make sure some other two-some didn't decide they could claim the half-table.

Ben shrugged.

"Mmm …," he acknowledged. "'Cause usually it seems like Art Escapes and milkshakes are something there's no question about you cashing in on in a heart beat with your Ma."

Ben just stared at him from across the table. "You think she'll be real mad?"

Brian shook his head. "No. We don't get too upset about honest mistakes, do we? Think she'll get why you were a little confused."

"Will she be mad Costa told me about unicorns?" Ben asked.

"She'll be annoyed kids are saying stuff like that," Brian said. "But she's not going to be mad at you. But I'd really appreciate if you don't go saying that kind of stuff to your sister."

Ben gave him a real serious look. "But maybe we should tell her since she likes unicorns and narwhals to much. If that's what it means. So bullies don't start buggin' her too."

Brian gave him a thin smile. "You're a good big bro," he allowed. "But you let me talk to you mom about all that before you go saying anything to Em. Alright?"

"Say wha?" he heard behind him and then felt a bike wheel ram into the bench – barely missing his ass.

He turned to see his girl panting like she'd just biked over in record time. And they really kind of had. Though, Brian didn't have a concept of where Liv had actually been when she'd checked in. He suspected it must've been already in the park with how quickly they appeared.

"There's my super girl," he said, as she stumbled off her bike. She was getting pretty good at it. But she still had a little bit of growing to do before she was getting off and on it real steady like. He'd had to put a couple blocks on her pedals so she could reach. She'd get there, though. Not doubt she'd have grown into it before the end of summer. And hopefully it should get her through at least three or four – or more – before they were having to upgrade again.

"Wha you sayin'?" she asked, crawling onto the bench next to him.

"That basketball is way better than unicorns," Ben said.

Em stuck her tongue out at him. Ben stuck his out right back.

"Don't," Brian warned. And glanced over his shoulder to measure how far in the dust Em had left Liv. But she was right there – trailing after her on foot. Lunch in hand. He knew his face lit up – involuntarily – seeing what she'd stopped to pick up. Luke's Lobster Shack. Seafood rolls all-round. A real taste of summer that they hadn't had since last summer.

"Hey," Liv greeted as she got over to the table and set down the couple paper bags.

He knew exactly what'd be in them. They always got the same to split between their family. Two trios – lobster roll, shrimp roll and crab roll. A couple coleslaws. Pickles. And some ice cold iced tea to share. Likely her gouging him a bit to subject himself to driving up to Boston Easter weekend. Get seafood on the mind. And Ducky's commentary about the tragedy of them eating ocean animals. Not that it would stop her from wolfing down the crab roll. You had to fight her off to even get a bite of it.

"Have I mentioned how much I love you," he teased her.

"Mmm …," she rolled her eyes but leaned in to give him a brief kiss – amid their kids' 'eeewwwwws'.

"Mommy, you get to sit next to me," Ben said, though, stealing her away. Because Liv never turned down those little moments and invitations either. But she was barely sitting next to Big Man before he tried his ice cream pitch again. "We're almost to Fireboat Ice Cream …"

"Ice cream," Em cheered, though she was already picking shredded crab out of the roll as Brian worked at getting the food on the picnic table.

"Mmm, butter pecan," Liv agreed, placing her arm around Ben as he cuddled right up to her. Clearly sold on dessert.

And that was it. His family. So fucking predictable in their unpredictability.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Next chapter will either be Liv/Benji or Liv/Jack.**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**


	31. Keep Going

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

***************RATING CHANGE WARNING: PARTS OF THIS CHAPTER ARE RATED M. THE START AND THE END ARE MARKED WITH BOLD ASTERISK, IF YOU'D LIKE TO/SHOULD SKIP *******************

Olivia lay on her side staring at Brian. He was actually sleeping – really sleeping, and sleeping late at that. She'd been laying like that for a while – just watching him. Trying to resist the urge to touch him. She had at one point – stroking her thumb along his forehead and tracing his ears and jaw line. His eyes had briefly flickered sleepily open. He'd gazed at her with heavy eyelids only for them to drift back shut without a word.

So she just let her hand drop away and let him sleep. He needed it. So badly. And she knew it was time limited. She could hear the kids up and playing in their room – chattering in their version of whispers – for a while now. It was actually a miracle that Brian was sleeping through it and likely betrayed even more how much his mind and body had just been ready to get some rest. Still, it'd only be a matter of time before the kids were at their door and wanting in their room and bed with them. Or they'd be stomping downstairs and clattering around the kitchen – pouring cereal or yogurt for themselves when they decided they were hungry and sick of waiting for Mom and Dad to get up and serve them breakfast. It was amazing how much noise was apparently involved in pouring a bowl of breakfast food and then eating it. It was even more amazing the level of mess that left in the kitchen and on the dining room table. And the mess that was left in their wake when Mom and Dad did get downstairs and order them to clean it up since they didn't live in a barn.

Olivia knew part of Brian's found-rest was the baggage dump they'd done the night before. They'd talked and talked for … hours. A talk in a way they hadn't quite reached before in the aftermath of everything they were dealing with. That Brian was dealing with. But he must've hit a tipping point – because he was the one that initiated.

They'd been trying a bit of a new communication tact lately. It'd basically amounted to putting a name to. And Brian liked that – he needed it. It just was putting a context to what they needed from each other in a given moment or given conversation. At least at the start of it.

In some ways Olivia hated it – and maybe she hated a little what it said about them as communicators or either of their abilities at relationships or them as a couple. But it also seemed to be helping a bit. Or maybe a lot. She got the sense that it was helping Brian a lot. Letting him know her expectations and needs in a moment and also letting him put some regulations on her before any given conversation got to the point he was upset and frustrated with her.

Friend, romantic partner, lover, 'spouse' or co-parent. That's what they'd boiled it down to.

In some ways it was … silly. There was a lot of overlap in those 'titles' and 'roles'. And it seemed that most conversations they'd delved into they usually transitioned through several of those 'roles' by the end. To the point she thought that it really should just be 'spousal conversations'. That spouse incorporated all the other terms. But maybe that gave less of the needed context. And maybe it just opened a whole other can of worms about what their relationship was. Or just why they were still putting 'air quotes' around 'spouse'. Why 'life partner' just felt wrong and awkward and uncomfortable. But they still weren't in any kind of rush to get married. They still hadn't talked about it – again – for a while. Probably more like a year. More.

But at least the picked terms – however silly - gave a starting point. A context of what the other person needed in the moment. It was avoiding some of the arguments where Brian accused her for getting 'all wife-y' on him when she 'didn't want to be my wife – so don't act like one'. Or that she was trying to 'be his boss' when she 'wasn't the boss of him'. Which were always … just fighting words that completely caused any discussion to stop dead in its tracks – because it lead them into a whole other escalated … argument, not discussion.

So last night he'd come right out and told her, "I need to get to talk you just as my friend for a bit." And she'd said OK. She'd gone and sat with him on the couch. And she just let him talk. He didn't want his romantic partner or his 'spouse' then. But it was still an intimate conversation.

Olivia had made herself do a lot of listening. She'd been cognizant of when and how she provided input. The tone she used. The suggestions she provided. When and how she touched him while he talked. And didn't talk.

Because it was also a Brian conversation. And he still struggled to talk to her after all these years. But she knew in a lot of ways she still struggled to talk to him too. It wasn't necessarily about each other. It was just about all these walls and boundaries they'd created throughout their lives for themselves. These fronts and illusions that they practiced for the rest of the world. And even though they both knew the other had become expert at seeing through them – at least seeing when those masks were being worn – they still struggled with removing them for each other too.

There'd been a lot of points where he hadn't looked at her. That he stared straight ahead. Or lulled his head on the back of the couch and talked more to the ceiling than her. But there'd been other points he'd looked her in the eye – with those deep, wounded eyes of his – looking for such reassurance. So she'd stared right back at him.

It came out in bits and sprouts. He'd say something. He'd be vague. And then he'd say nothing for a bit. And then he'd ramble and get wound up. And then she'd help him come back down. To ground him. Up and down they went. But they wandered through the maze.

It'd become about as close as Brian had ever gotten to bearing his soul to her. More cracks in the armor than he'd ever shown in one go. And she knew that it likely set the stage that there was going to reach the point – soon – in his … their … recovery and growth in all this, that she was going to need to do the same. And that scared her. Terrified her in more ways than she wanted to admit.

But she also knew … lately … really, maybe more like for at least years, if not more like decades … Brian had been putting a whole lot of trust and confidence in her. And she knew that must be incredibly scary – and painful and just plain horrifying, nakedly, vulnerable – for him too. But he was doing it. He was finding it somewhere in himself.

Sometimes he was so much stronger than he ever gave himself credit for. But Brian wasn't good at taking credit – at defending himself or protecting himself. In so many ways he was a 'victim'. But Olivia also knew she couldn't be – wouldn't be – another person who victimized him. The reality was, she knew, in a lot of ways, she likely already had at certain points in his life and their relationship. She'd taken advantage of him for her own means, necessity and ends on more than one occasion. But that wasn't a partnership and it also wasn't a relationship. Not the kind she wanted. And she knew not the kind Brian wanted – or deserved – either.

There'd clearly been parts of the day that had triggered him a bit and stressed him more. Running to Daper from IA and hearing that Cole had heard about him on the stand. How it'd thrown him off but how he felt like Daper was the first guy who hadn't given him 'the look' since all this. And how he'd been the first cop to acknowledge it'd taken some guts to do. How he was starting to feel … like it was getting easier to just have it out there. Like it was a weight off him to not have to hide it or create some sort of narrative and optics around himself. Even though he didn't want to talk about it and didn't want the whole world to know. There was a part of him that was relieved it was just out there. That that skeleton was out of the closet. Even though he hated that too.

He spun around worrying about if all the 'banging whores' talk was hurting their relationship and if they were OK. And she'd assured him that it was in the past. It was a long time ago. She'd made her choices and come to her acceptance of that being a piece of his past long ago. She didn't feel the need for them to have a new conversation about it. That she felt having one might be more damaging to their relationship. Because there really wasn't anything to say about it at this point.

He worried about if they'd explained it properly to Benji. And what other kids were saying to him. And that he might be thinking. What he'd think of him if this came up again or he still remembered as he got older. What Emmy would think. How much he hated the teasing and the pain it was bringing to his family when it was just 'a thing'. And a 'bad choice'. How he'd been played and used there too and he'd let it happen.

He'd slipped a bit into his past after that. Some whispered context to conclusions she'd already drawn. Ones she should've seen signs of and suspected long ago. But she'd been blind to. That he didn't date in high school and tried for the bad guy and tough guy persona. And it never really worked because he'd said 'no' to a whole lot of things – because he was also trying to be a 'good boy'. To not make things harder on his mom. But playing the macho and not dating raised too many teen-aged eyebrows and got tongues wagging too. So he had a girl friend. A literal girl friend – that he'd spend obscene amounts of time with in making it look like a fake relationship. Only she wanted a real relationship and then a physical relationship and that didn't work for him for a long time. But after that he tried. He started on his series of one-night stands and short lived relationships. He said that SVU was a good excuse. Just push any problems off on a rough case and a hard job. Say relationship difficulties – establishing anything real or long-term – wasn't possible because he was a cop. And keep up the act. It'd gotten him through his 20s and 30s.

He'd looked right at her and mumbled, "I really hadn't been with too many people before you. Not … successfully. You know …?"

And she gave him what he needed to hear: "I didn't," she'd said. "Because the way I remember it, everything was more than working that night."

He worried they were sheltering the kids too much. And he stressed about their backgrounds and everything they'd been through. He wanted to protect them – and shelter them – for as long as they could, because they already knew more about the real world and real life and real pain than any kid should have to. But he also worried that – especially Benji – they were getting to the point that they needed to talk to them more plainly, exposure them to more things, explain them in more concrete ways – before kids in the playground started educating them in ways they really didn't want them too. Before they got called liars or hypocrites. Before their kids turned into bigger marks than they were. Targets with flashing signs above their heads.

And he worried how that was all going to come crashing down in the next few years. As their little kids teen years seemed to be sneaking up to quickly. And their childhoods were disappearing. And he didn't know where it was going. And he was worried he wasn't doing enough – or jut wasn't enough.

He muttered about how he didn't like some of the things these grade schoolers were teaching each other already. Like Fortnight. He went off on a tangent. Brian the videogame machine – who used it to bond with Jack, who now was stricter about all things videogames and screentime than her most days.

But he'd managed to pull himself off that rant and go into the name-calling and sharing their playground understanding of sex and drugs and race and gender and guns and violence and all the slang and misinformation that came with it. He didn't like that Benji had told him that if you haven't kissed someone before you started middle school everyone was going to make fun of you. But he'd smiled about how Benji wanted a watch – for his appointments and IVs.

That was their kid - while schools were getting rid of clocks because kids didn't know how to read them or use them anymore. How he hoped they could hold him off on that allowance purchase because he thought it'd be a great graduation gift (though he thought a 'graduation gift' for finishing fifth grade was a level of ridiculous) or an 11th birthday. Or even a 13th birthday gift.

He whispered and muttered some of his childhood imaginings about what a father was. About how he just wanted a dad to be there and to see him. And he gravelled even lower some memories he did have of his father that he'd never shared with her before. She'd always been left with the impression that he was completely missing from Brian's life. But instead she got a small, heart-breaking glimpse of the few and far betweens that Brian's dad had "found them" and the violence that he and his mother endured when that happened. The fractured days and weeks. The bouncing to new apartments frantically to disappear again. Fists and bruises and fractured ribs and stitches and black eyes – for him and for Janet. The absolute terror. And how hard it was to see the other boys – who's homes didn't seem to be like that even if they weren't great. The illusion he'd created for himself about the cop dads up in the stands at the Little League games and how great that must've been for those boys – not realizing the hours their dads worked, how much their dads drank, how often their dad cheated on their moms, or just how few games they actually did get out to in a season. But to a nine, ten, eleven, twelve year old boy – it looked like a real, wholesome family.

And then he'd muttered how sometimes he didn't think he knew how to be a father. And Olivia had again assured him for everything he'd just gone off about – he sounded like a father. But he'd still said, "I never feel like I know what I'm doing." And she admitted that neither did she – not as a mother or as a parent. That she was having lots of moments – especially lately – where she didn't feel like a very good mother either. She admitted that she didn't know what a father was exactly supposed to look like or do either. That she hadn't grown up with an adult man in her life filling that role either. But she was very sure that Brian was what and who their kids needed as a father.

She'd eventually cajoled him into joining her upstairs for a bath. He usually foo-foo'ed that idea. Showering together was different. But getting him to join her in the big soaker tub that had been such a selling point to her on this house (but that she so rarely got to use) was a different story. But that night – he'd followed her up the stairs. Because, Olivia knew, he needed the closeness and the basic, calming comfort that is a warm bath – even if he was going to couch in doing her some kind of favor.

He'd joked with her as they worked to get their naked, middle-aged, tired, wider bodies into the tub. About who would get in first. About who's junk would be dangling in front of the other as they wedged themselves in. About where legs went and asses went and what body parts were rubbing where. And the general notion that warm bathwater was little more than a personal cesspool.

But they did get into the warm water. The water she'd almost made just a touch too hot to make sure they had lots of time to soak and calm before the water got cool. To sooth aching muscles from chasing after kids all day and from sitting hunched at desks all week. To try to wash about some of the stress and worry of their daily lives and existence.

And they'd stopped talking at that point. She'd settled against Brian's chest and shut her eyes and she'd waited. And it wasn't long before he started taking care of her – and she was reminded again how nice it was to have someone to do that. How she didn't need it – but to feel cared for in that way, by Brian, brought its own level of comfort. It lightened the load. While it also just … it made him feel better about himself too. Needed, wanted, loved. Having value and use and purpose. It helped him feel like the kind of man she knew he tried so hard to be. Even though she wasn't sure she'd ever express that she saw that – that her letting him take care of her was also a way for her to take care of him too.

***** START OF M *****

Brian splashed and lapped the water over her shoulders and massaged at them in deep, soothing motions. Eventually he worked at wetting down her hair and washing it with that shampoo. He kissed at her neck and his hands weighed at her bobbing breasts. He stared over her shoulder at them too – like he was fascinated to the point that he was using it as some inciting starting point in planning some Sunday science activity with the kids. His fingers played at her nipples and then traced down her abdomen and found their way to play along her inner thighs.

And it all just felt so tender and different in the sensations under the water and in that warm, damp, steamy room. And she spread her legs as far as the tub would let her – draping ankle over the rim – and let him explore more and deeper. To find her nub. To build up that ache in her core. Until she felt his own ache pressing and bobbing against her too.

"Do you want to finish in bed?" she'd muttered to him.

But he'd only mumbled something against her neck that she couldn't make out. But the answer was clear enough. His lips and tongue against her neck and below her ear and nips at her earlobe. And the practiced – effective – motion of his index and middle finger at clit and curling against her sex. His other hand moving between her breast and belly and thigh. Until he took her over the edge and still kissed gently at her – still held her – as she came down.

Until she could manage to pull herself out of the tub on wobbly legs and draw him up too. To drew them both off just enough to move into the bedroom. To stare at the erection he was packing that night. He might've struggled a bit lately. But putting some of the emotional baggage down? The warm water? Her letting him take some control in the tub? Whatever it was – he was bobbing heavy and hard, flushed deeply colored with the blood flow.

Olivia kissed him – still in the bathroom – and she waited, her hand on his hip waiting for him to give her permission to touch him, for him to guide her hand to him. So that she could get to feel that warm, throbbing, velvet texture of him in her palm. His need and arousal – for her. But it didn't come. He didn't guide her hand or give her that permission. So she instead found his hand and guided him to the bed.

Olivia lay down first. Him standing over her – looking like he hadn't gotten to look at her that way in a long while. And he probably hadn't – not quite that way.

He stared at her. Flushed cheeks. That dot spreading on his forehead. The redness that spread down his neck and across his upper chest – spotted with the dampness from where her mouth and lips and tongue had been just before. Where they should be exploring and nipping and nuzzling now and they would be.

But there was still a bit of a look to him now. The man. The little boy. The insecure teen. The damaged goods – who never seemed to have full confidence of what he was doing. Not in their relationship or in intimacy. This man who operated with this awkward uncertainty despite the demanding confidence he attempted to exude in the bedroom … in life. To all those around him – who weren't her.

Olivia lifted her hand adjust some of her hair - to run her hand through it – and to try to calm herself, center herself in how to navigate this in this moment. To read him and his needs. So this could be what he needed – what they both needed. To make this as easy for him – and them – as he'd made that orgasm he'd given her seemed too that night. To keep this in the moment while still acknowledging the past. The baggage and scars and regrets and … trauma … they'd wade through that night. In that 'friend' conversation.

But Brian's eyes that night looked uncertain. They stayed on her, assessing her. So Olivia reached out and gestured for him to join her in the bed. And he did. So she stroked that scruff of his that came and went and came and went.

"Where's your head at?" she put to him, keeping her hand against his cheek.

He shrugged and gestured at her. "Here," he tried. His tone betrayed that he knew she wasn't going to buy it. But he'd tried anyway.

She tugged at his ear a bit as she curled her fingers to run her fingers through his hair, to stroke at the usually too short trim on the back of his neck and the base of his skull.

"Babe, I'm really glad we talked," she said.

He made another little noise and looked down his chest at her – at where she'd planted her chin against his breastplate to stare up at him.

His eyes glassy and far away. They flickered. "I don't know. Sometimes I just feel like I'm back there. Then. I've had some moments lately where I am. I just am. Maybe I talked too much. Thought too much. Tonight. Today."

She clutched at his hand. She held it tight – she squeezed it – trying to ground him. And trying to remind him – to show him – he wasn't alone.

"I know …," she acknowledged.

And they lay like that. They just lay there until she felt his hand clutching hers back.

"Have you thought anymore about maybe trying a therapist? For some individual sessions?" she ventured carefully.

And his hand tried to pull away from hers. He tried to go back to closing his eyes tight. But she wouldn't let him. She summoned her strength – to be stronger than his in that moment – and kept his hand in hers.

"It helps me a lot, Brian," she said. "To just try to talk some of it out and sort some of it all out."

His eyes found hers then. "Please, don't."

She gave him a weak look and a little shrug. "It's a lot, Bri. All of this is a lot."

She saw the glimmer in his eyes. The look as he again tried to process and understand. To get over himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She shrugged at him again and settled a bit more against him. "I'm working really hard to be in a good place," she admitted quietly. "I'm trying. I know you are too. Your way. I'm trying to help you get there too."

And his arm came up around her. He held her in a way he held her when he came in the door. On the couch and when they'd moved to the bedroom. While he kissed her and usually when he made love to her.

She thought they had been there – in that place. But maybe they weren't. Not earlier. But maybe they were getting back there again now. Ups and downs in this navigation.

But at least it was … it felt … more intimate now. And her insides hummed in a different way. A better one. Maybe.

And he held her again. Tighter maybe. And she … liked it. Needed it. Wanted it.

She recognized in his spinning mind maybe this wasn't where he thought he should be right now. But maybe he should. Maybe it made sense. Maybe it was better. A way to fill the holes. A distraction that wasn't a distraction. Because it was real. What they had – together, as a family. So much more real than … the kinds of things that tossed you down holes and made it hard to get out. And maybe better – healthier. Because all this wasn't always the plug in the dam you needed or wanted it to be. But maybe this could be. He could be. And she could be for him too. Right now. Because it just … it felt right.

"I'm really glad you're here," she told him. Encouraged him. "Stay here with me tonight." Stay in the moment. Stay where they'd built up to. Take advantage of the progress.

He nodded. But he nodded and got quiet. They both did. For a long time. And she just listened to his breathing and his heart. Brian had become a pillow. And her white noise machine. In so many ways. And her heating blanket on the cold, lonely nights. She wanted to – strived to be – that for him too. Even on the nights he didn't sleep. And she didn't. Through the night terror and nightmares. At least someone was there. That's what they were to each other.

Someone to bare witness. All of them – their family - having someone to bare witness. To each other. To life. To the big moments and little moments and shared moments. And all the fucking bullshit in between.

"It's going to be okay," he promised again - against somewhere into her hair at the side of her head. An assurance to her? Or to himself? "We'll figure it out."

But that sounded so good. It was what they'd promised each other before. They'd said it so many times in their mess of a relationship. All the ups and downs. The nonsensicalness of it.

But lately – these days - Olivia really wanted to believe it. To believe that they would figure it out. That THEY would figure it out. Them. That there was a them. That they were already doing that. A day at a time, bit by bit. They were figuring it all out together. The good, bad, and ugly of all of it. Of themselves, of their pasts, of their present. And that figuring it out – it was something they both wanted and felt was achievable. Not just achievable – doable. That they really could figure it out. And Olivia just didn't know who else she could figure any of this out with. Not at this point in her life. She couldn't imagine doing it with anyone else. For anyone else. They were invested in each other.

"I'm okay," he whispered again.

"You are …," she agreed. Because he was. As much as he wasn't – Brian so was. And she wanted to assured him of that. To help him believe it. To get there truly and fully. "But you're allowed to not be alright, Bri," she said. "This is … a lot. I know. I get it."

His arms gripped her even tighter. But she did turn her head – she found his eyes – and gave him a silent lesson on how to get consent and permission and to check-in without using words. She got it, though. Finally. He settled. He let her as his eyes met hers and then his head settled back into the pillow – and he let her stare at the still there erection – though not quite the same as it was when they'd gotten out of the bath. But she still wrapped her hand around him and made the careful movements of a practiced and negotiated routine that had taken a different level of communication previously. A staggered lesson in what he liked and what he could tolerate without him triggering or just freaking out on her. That should've been more signs – but hadn't been in quite that way.

There wasn't any of that that night, though. Not as he grew again in her hand. Not as she ran her fingers and barely scratched and traced her nails down his inner thighs and his ball sac. As she cupped them. And kissed at his abdomen and moved her lips along his perturbing ribs. Not as she measured his breathing and his heart rate and his sounds – and him. As his one hand played at stroking her back and shoulders and ran his fingers through her damp hair. While his other hand restlessly clenched – but he still didn't know what to do with it besides that.

Until he was full and hot and hard and heavy in her hand. Until she lifted her head slightly and kissed in the middle of his sternum and found his heavy eyes gazing down at her. She let go of him and brushed her hand at his shoulder a bit. She kissed his neck and his jaw line. And she gave him a thin smile – for the man he was. And who she wasn't giving up on. Because he didn't give up on her. Even when he was hurting and trying to find his way out of his own dark tunnel. But she could tell he'd made himself spot the light. And he was making himself keep moving.

"Bri, I'd really like to get off again tonight," she told him directly. "I need to."

He gave a nod and shifted. The hyper-attentiveness again, that he showed to her almost all too often in the bedroom. A distraction and deflection that likely should've been yet another sign. The one that even though it could annoy the fuck out of her sometimes – it also made him a decent and giving lover. The same hyper-attentiveness that she knew made him a decent and giving – if not a somewhat, at times, over-protective and hyper-vigilante – father. But she was only … split … in her interest in thinking about either thing right now. They were related and not.

But Olivia knew that her cue and his reaction – his movement – meant he was more than willing to get her off right then. That he'd let her get on her back. That he'd get between her legs – his mouth and hands and fingers and lips and tongue. And that – again through some of his practiced manoeuvres – he'd help her get to an orgasm in relatively short order. Again. As easily – likely even faster – than in the bath.

But that wasn't exactly what she wanted or needed at that point that night. So she put her hand out – pressing it into his shoulder – to stop his movement. He gazed at her, settling back down. The assumption on his face was that she was going to get on top and he was weighing his willingness to participate in that that particular night. Because he was likely getting ready to get off too – and Brian always preferred to be the one in control when that happened. Again, she now understood more about why.

"Would you be willing to try a little different position?" she asked.

He gazed at her. She could see the processing and the weighing again. Him trying to figure out where this was going and how he felt about it and what she needed from him and if he could give that.

"If you're saying …" he managed to get out but then jumped to, "Don't know if I'm in the headspace for … no eye contact. If that's what you're thinking …"

She touched his cheek and leaned in to find his mouth. She kissed him. She kissed him long and deep. And he opened to her. He joined in and pulled her closer and more eagerly. And she smiled into it. So did he. She felt him relax. And maybe so did she.

So she backed off. She kept her hand on his cheek again and looked him in the eye.

"There will be eye contact," she promised.

She adjusted herself. She watched as he watched. The unsure young man again. The awkward self-consciousness where she could tell he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do right then. But she wasn't entirely sure what she was doing either. It'd been a while. They both had some hang ups about … their positioning. It'd been a big part of the reason for their predictable, efficient routine they'd developed in the bedroom over the past few years. Their sex life becoming increasingly mundane as they worked to protect each other while also trying to meet their own needs.

But at least it was a starting point of them … trying to be comfortable with something different. Them … accepting yet another change. That was forcing them to stare some of their baggage in the eye – and to put it down. Or at least figure out a way to work around it.

Olivia grabbed at his hip as she settled next to him. He gave her a confused look.

"On your side," she instructed.

"Spooning?" he asked with some attempted mocking and a whole lot more scepticism – that that could be something either of them wanted or needed. At least with penetration involved.

But still looked at her for some kind of guidance. He let her adjust them and position them. Let her nudge up to him and tilt near him – to drape her one leg over him even though the twist in her spine - as she settled and adjusted her back and hips and upper body and lower body - protested just slightly but not uncomfortably. And any discomfort was outweighed by the fact he was right there. That she could see him and feel him and smell him. That his entire body as warm against her back. That his hand was already playing circles on her hip. That his lips – and his scruff from the day – were grazing at her shoulder and finding her neck –and just the right spot there. So Olivia looked up to nod at him, to give him permission to reach between them and enter her.

The crooked, just slightly twisted and even more tilted position. But their eyes on each other. So on each other that she didn't have to tell him to kiss her. Bri leaned over her himself and found her mouth. It was deep. Their mouth and breathing locked. And he rocked in shallow, jerky, awkward strokes as he tried to figure out the movement and rhythm and angle in their slight contortion. This new position and feeling and spots to hit. A break from their routine. A new-to-them moment.

Brian's hand gripped at her draped thigh to steady himself and to pull her to him and with him. His tongue pressed into her mouth. Their lips parting and grabbing at each other urgently. And more urgently and even more urgently.

And his hand moving. His fingers finding her clit again. And she grasped slightly into their mouths. And felt him smile.

She felt him break away from the kiss just for a moment. To look her in the eyes and smile more. To look down and move his hand for a long moment. But his hand returned to her clit as his mouth returned to hers. And he played at her.

Olivia found herself twisting more and more to grab at the back of his head to demand his mouth and access to it more fully. Even as she felt her breathing change against his. And his hers.

And with his hand and his fingers and what they were doing - she tried to arc against him in that position. To feel more of his skin and him and that hand and those fingers. But instead she settled to reach for – grab and grip at – his bicep of the hand that was working her so quickly toward what she'd told him he wanted.

Where his movements felt so different against her swollen and sensitive nub. Where his thrusts inside her felt so oddly different too. So shallow and him teasing her in rapid entrances where she knew he was hardly in her but he was so there. Only for him to hold her and press to firmly and she could feel all of him there. And he was so hard. And it was like she could just feel him everywhere in those moment. Those very real, deep moments. Against her and over her and in her. Hitting at her in different ways in this different angle and different consistent touch of skin against skin.

It happened so quickly. So differently than she was used to. She hadn't even felt all her usual cues. Her body changed – different. And she gasped – grunted and moaned all at the same time – into his mouth and squirrelled as she tried to figure out how to twist and turn and grab and hold onto him.

But Brian held her. He pulled her closer as she felt herself spasm around him. Only then it was him who made a noise – his noise - and he pressed over and against her in a different way while her body was still making its own involuntary movements. While she was still trying to find a way to center herself. But she didn't want to because she also just wanted to stay in that moment with him.

His breathing was heavy. He panted over top of her. Their swollen lips barely parted. And only parted for seconds before they kissed and broke and kissed and broke. Hearts pounding still. Her breathing still ragged. Sweat – and salty sweet. Sticky, wet and warm. And just … a fucking pool of …

"Wow," Brian near gasped. Wow. A big fucking pool of wow. And the way he said it - it wasn't self-conscious or confused. It was just a statement. He smiled at her. So big. So fucking big.

He didn't need to say more. It was painted all over him. All over both of them. Wow was enough. Because their nearly … seven … eight … years of practiced manoeuvres and comfortable routines hadn't gotten them there before. Not at the same time. Not together. Not in this way.

It seemed like a myth. A faked reality that didn't exist in the reality they operated in.

No matter how good the sex had been. It hadn't been this. But there it was. Right there. Right now. Between them – and their broken, sweaty, contorted, spent bodies.

"Keep going …" she breathed at him.

And she didn't have to tell him again that time either. He thrust. And his face contorted slightly with the pleasurable discomfort of his own over-sensitive nerve-endings and his erection that likely wanted a bit of a break. His own contortion act and spend energy and awkward efforts to find a pace and rhythm in this new angle.

But she asked. And he did. He kept going. His eyes on her and then his mouth returned to hers. And they kissed. And they smiled. She could feel that. She could feel it and her own hyper-sensitivity playing between discomfort and pleasure. But she didn't care. Not too much. Because something about it still felt nice. And it was with him.

And Olivia thought … now … a lot of this … everything … it was … it was just going to be about finding suitable adjustments. About making some contortions. About dealing with some discomfort – so their could be pleasure … together.

***** END OF M *****

And mostly … it was just going to be about … keeping on going. And she thought – she knew – they both knew how to do that.

And within that discovery maybe it meant that they – Brian – could finally sleep. And he'd finally slept.

Until right then … that morning … when there was a THUD and BANG and CRASH … down the hall and his eyes' flickered open to stare at her with some annoyance. He still wanted to sleep. He still wanted to dream of that moment of discovery.

"What the hell are they doing?" he mumbled.

She gave him a thin smile and stroked at his cheek. "My impression is playing Into the Spiderverse."

Brian groaned a bit. "Bunk beds. Worst idea ever."

And she smiled and shook her head again. "It means they aren't in here, Papa Bear …"

He grunted. "Don't poke the sleeping bear …"

And she wouldn't. She leaned in and kissed him gently instead. Because these were their moments. What they were working on – fighting for. And the hard work of the in between – the annoyances of the in between – they were worth it too.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**So the next chapter really will be Jack/Liv. At this point I have about two chapters planned and don't know much how much I'll do within this timeframe of the AU/story after that.**


	32. Top of the Heap

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia glanced up from staring at her desk – listening to the phone ring against her ear and willing Brian to actually pick up this time. She'd been trying to reach him most of the afternoon and so far they'd only been playing telephone tag with voice messages and typical Brian responses to texts, which consisted of: "Yes", "No", "Slammed" and about the most characters he ever typed "Taken care of".

She'd really been hoping that she'd get to speak to him – and he'd have more success at getting logged into their MySchools account than she was. So she could actually maybe try to concentrate on – and hopefully enjoy – her visit with Jack. Her much delayed and long over-due one-on-one time with the kid – the young man. But now he was loitering in her office door and she still had her phone pressed to her ear with the window of opportunity closing.

Still she managed to mouth a 'hi' at him but held up her finger, indicating she needed a minute. He gave her that look – the one that said he didn't believe that it'd only be a minute and he really wasn't interested in waiting around for her. But she just stared right back at him. Right now she wasn't interested in dealing with his attitude. But her eyes flickered away from him as Brian's voice rattled in her ear.

"Oh, hey," she said somewhat surprised. "You actually picked up."

Jack made an even more annoyed noise and she again glanced at him – and again held up a finger, trying to assure him she was really only going to be a couple more minutes. He shook his head at her and moved away from the door. She could already hear him and Carisi talking – loudly. So she got up and went to close her office door. She didn't want to be distracted by their ongoings when she actually managed to get a hold of Brian.

"Yea, sorry," Brian muttered in her ear. She could hear noise and movement. It was pretty clear he was likely just on the move – walking between meetings that he was likely running late for. He sounded short and rushed. "It's been a bitch of a day."

"I've been trying to get a hold of you," she put back to him. Even though she knew that was obvious.

Even though she expected his response. "I know," he muttered again. "I've been calling back. We've been missing each other."

She sighed at that and paced back to her desk. "You're going to be running late?" she asked, gazing through her windows back into the bullpen and Jack's animated, actually smiling features as him and Carisi bantered either like schoolgirls or teen-aged boys trying to impress the other with … academic know-it-all rather than … supposed prowess or sports conquests. Maybe that was as close as she was going to get to a visit with Jack that day. That their one-on-one time would be the subway back across to Brooklyn – if he wanted to come home for some time with his baby brother and sister and a home-cooked meal (that she really didn't want to make). "Do you need me to pick up the kids from the after-school program?"

"Jack flake on you?" Brian said with a clear annoyed edge of his own.

Brian and Jack were butting heads again lately. She knew part of it was that Brian was stressed with his own things – his past and their family's present; work and Benji. And Jack was stressed with his own things too. But Olivia was getting a little sick of playing referee and keeping the two of them in their separate corners when they were in the same space. It was made worse by the fact that she didn't entirely disagree with some of the comments Brian had been making to Jack lately. As much as she understood that Jack was a little delayed in some ways – because of how he'd grown up – he was also a grown-up and it was really time to grow up.

She loved and cared for Jack – a lot. But she definitely wasn't loving this whole prolonged, emerging adulthood thing. At twenty-five she would've hoped that a few more foundational blocks in getting his adult life and career launched would be put in place. Rather than him talking about going back to the drawing board and ripping up that whole slow-taking foundation again. And, really, she was only willing to support him and finance these many years of 'self discovery' and 'figuring things out' for so much longer.

Jack had his own money and own debts – but she'd still done a whole lot to keep him afloat for a lot more years than she might've anticipated, because she was likely basing her expectations on what your college years and twenties looked like on her experience – three or four decades ago depending on how you did those calculations. And as much as she recognized that wasn't the same reality that 'kids' faced today – she also could only manage to help him in the way she had been for so much longer.

Her and Brian had their own mandatory retirements creeping up on them at a terrifying rate. She knew the next fifteen years – when measuring them against raising two children – would completely vanish into thin air before she knew what happened. And the big 5-0 would turn into the big 6-0 and then it'd only be a matter of time before One PP was putting her out to pasture.

And between now and then – her and Brian still had two little people to raise up at New York City prices. She had two little people who'd be big people who she'd like to be able to help get some kind of post-secondary education too. She had to consider that those two little people might be like Jack (or a generation worse) and be twenty-five and expecting – and needing – support and hand-outs and never-ending schooling while they faced low-paying jobs and struggled with complete indecision about the kind of career they wanted to establish when there weren't any real opportunities in getting on that kind of career track as it was. Basically over-educated, over-grown children who didn't have the resources to seemingly start hitting the real mileposts of reaching adulthood and being actual grown-ups.

And all that would likely be happening right around when her and Brian would probably be hitting mandatory and should've – needed to have – put away enough money to mostly try to get them and their family through the rest of their days. All that seemed a little overwhelming – and unrealistic – when they were measuring it against Jack's reality. When they were starting to look at Benji's health care costs – and what was and wasn't covered and how quickly things added up – and knowing that it would continue for the rest of his life. A pre-existing condition that used a lot of heavy-duty medication to treat and would require ongoing monitoring by specialists and undoubtedly numerous hospital visits and admittances for years and years to come. And all this was when they had two little kids who had special academic needs – and it was starting to become more and more apparent that that might mean they needed to explore private schools that they also really couldn't afford while trying to save for the whole family's future too.

So – she understood where Brian was coming from. She didn't disagree that twenty-five was grown-up enough, old enough, enough time to have found his feet and to make his own decisions and to be his own man. But saying that in away that didn't cause a fight or push Jack away was a completely different exercise. Especially when his relationship with her felt so strained and frayed right now as it was. But that was a lot of Jack's own making, even if Olivia also recognized that she hadn't been putting as much time into parenting him – or being their for him or connecting with him. But he also was a twenty-five year-old man. She had two little kids at home. Jack wasn't a kid. And he really did need to hear her say that – directly. Brian saying anything only said so much. And it usually just created tension between those two. Case and point in the tone of his comment.

"No," she shook her head. "He's right here."

But Brian's point was valid. She'd almost been expecting Jack to cancel on her too. It'd been a long time since they'd had alone time together – outside of the house. And at the house, if she tried to broach into real conversation with him, he usually just found a way to quickly walk away and redirect his attention to the kids. She knew he couldn't really do that tonight. But she also was almost afraid that he might just leave her standing on a street corner if she did rub him the wrong way or pushed the conversation in a direction he didn't want to go. But it felt like there were a lot of conversations they at least needed to start wading into. They'd put them off too long. Still, she was going to be careful how she played it. She'd read him. Because she also just wanted to try to enjoy her 'adult' son that she felt she so rarely got to see and spend time with in any real way anymore. And sometimes she felt like that was part of the problem. She'd let go too much and he'd wandered too far to remember how to get back. For them to be close again. It was just hard to balance everything all the time.

"Good," Brian pressed. "So go do … your guys' thing. I called Cragen, Eileen. They're going to grab the kids. Take them home."

Olivia squinted at that. "To our house?" she asked.

"Yea," Brian said with another edge.

She sighed and ran fingers through her hair, while still jabbing at the refresh button on the computer. "I wish you hadn't done that."

"Why?" he said – with even more tone. "Cap said they weren't doing shit this afternoon. And they said they want to help – any time."

"The house is a disaster, Brian."

He made a frustrated noise on the other end of the line. "It's fine," he muttered.

"Your definition of fine and my definition of fine when it comes to housekeeping are two very different things," she said, still staring at the screen.

"Whatever," Brian said. "I wasn't gonna ask them to pick up the kids and take them back to Bensonhurst. I don't fuckin' want to add that to my commute when I get outta here either."

She exhaled. "Okay," she allowed. "I don't want to fight with you about it."

"Good," Brian muttered. "Assuming I'll still beat you home. So I'll see you when you get home from your … thing."

"Bri, that actually wasn't why I was calling," she muttered.

It was quieter on the other end of the line. She suspected he'd likely managed to make it to his office without someone trying to sidetrack him. But she could hear him moving things around on his desk – likely indicating he'd either forgotten something, had been ordered to go and grab another box of files or evidence, or he was just switching out what he was dragging around with him to take off to some other meeting or sit-in on some other interview or interrogation and he wanted the files to be checking against.

"Okay," he mumbled. "Really crunched on time here, Babe. What's up?"

She resisted the urge to point out that he should know what was up – she'd been texting him and leaving messages for him for the better part of almost five hours. But that wasn't going to accomplish anything. She could tell she barely had his attention. And she had to be forgiving of that – she did the same thing to him pretty regularly. It was just the nature of both their jobs. For better or worse.

"Did you see the email blast from the school?" she put to him instead.

"Nah," he muttered. She could again tell at that point he was likely absorbed in something else. Probably scanning documents in front of him to make sure he had everything he needed to whatever he was heading off to next. "I haven't had my personal account open."

"The middle school results were supposed to be made available at the end of the school day," she put to him more directly.

"Oh, yea," he said – she'd clearly managed to get some of his attention with that.

"Yea," she pressed. "But I keep timing out every time I try to log into our MySchools account."

He made a listening sound. And she'd heard a shift in his position. His weight had dropped to his chair. There was a click of keys on a keyboard.

"Likely 'cause every parent in Brooklyn is trying to login tonight," he muttered.

"Well, the letters aren't being mailed until tomorrow morning and we can't pick up a copy from the school until the end of the week," she said. "And I'd kind of like to know what we're dealing with - now."

"I got the login screen to come up," he muttered at her.

She'd gotten that far. But she still rattled off their family's login information – on the hope that he'd manage to get farther than that. That he'd hit the button at just the right lull in the flow of traffic.

"It's spinning," he provided.

"Give it a bit," she said and hit refresh on her screen again. Right now she wasn't even getting to the login screen. But she'd gotten the spinning beach-ball of death enough times to know that it was likely just going to hang there for a minute or so and then tell him the server had timed out.

"Liv, I think we're just gonna have to wait. Give it a shot tonight when the initial pandemonium dies down."

She exhaled and gazed into the bullpen. "Then I'm going to end up spinning on it like that stupid ball all night," she muttered. "I want to be able to be present for Jack."

"Babe," Brian pressed. "If it's shitty news, you're still going to be distracted all night."

"Let's try to assume it won't be shitty news," she muttered.

"Right," Brian said. "With the way the system works and our luck."

And the reality was they'd gone through this whole process assuming there was going to be shitty news and working to figure out their plan of attack to challenge that. To try to get Benji into a place he could thrive – what that meant and what that looked like in the public school system. And what all that would mean if they had to start exploring the private school system and trying to find a space and place for him now at this point in the application game. And then just how all this fit into his treatment and illness and the number of days he was likely going to be missing at least for the next six months to two years – which might as well be all of middle school. Trying to understand their options and if they could or should move from an IEP to a 504 – or how to combine elements of both for their son with dyslexia and lupus. It was this whole other system of bureaucracy and jargon that they were both still learning to operate within. It was a different – far too overly political game – than the ones they both already worked in. And her and Brian were only so much of politicians or politically correct. They didn't excel at the politic of it all. And it had bit them both in the ass in different ways on multiple different occasions already.

"I think I'm in," he muttered. "You sure you want me to try to open this notice up now?"

"Yes," she said.

She vaguely heard the click. But there was no instant reaction out of him.

"It's spinning again," he finally muttered after far too long of beat.

"Okay …," she allowed evenly, exhaling slowly again. She gazed at the ceiling and offered some kind of private, little prayer that maybe they could get a win. God they needed it right now. They didn't need to be spread over more front lines, readying to mount another war in a battle that likely wasn't going to be won. Just let this be a win.

"I think it's hanging …," he muttered.

And she exhaled in a sigh. She'd pretty much expected that.

"Wait, wait," he said a bit more enthusiastically.

"God, Brian …," she grumbled and put her hand against her forehead just willing this to paint the picture they needed.

"It's coming up. It's some kind of document file. Give it a second."

She stared at the blank screen in front of her and thought about what she wanted to see there. She visualized it.

Until she heard Brian say, "You're goin' be happy." And she could feel a smile in his voice.

"Yea?" she pressed.

"Got placed in the first round," Brian said. "Top choice school."

Olivia gaped. She shook her head. Top choice school? She hadn't been expecting that. She was praying for one of their top three. She thought they'd be incredibly lucky if they'd landed one of the top three. Their number one pick? It made her suddenly fear they'd filled out the forms incorrectly. Or they misunderstood the process. Or Brian was just reading whatever was in front of him wrong.

"M.S. 447?" she pressed.

"Yea," Brian allowed.

"Brian, it actually says M.S. 447?" she put again.

"I'm not the one in the family who's dyslexic," he said.

"So it actually says M.S. 447? Not just some 'assigned your top choice' line up top and something entirely different further down?"

"Big bold print," he said. "M.S. 447 – Math and Science Exploratory School. District 15, Brooklyn."

She sat there and exhaled. And then she breathed in. She let it sit there. She gave her a beat to process it.

"So he must've got one of the Diversity seats?" she finally said.

"It doesn't say," Brian said. "And who cares, Babe. Just take the win. School we wanted for him. The exploratory curriculum. It's what we need, right?"

"I just mean, they must've given him a Disability seat?" she pressed. "That it's a pre-acknowledgement of his IEP status?"

"Or his name just got pulled from the hat right up front," Brian said. "We got lucky."

She exhaled and threaded her hand through her hair. "Okay," she muttered. "So we need to follow-up with his school, with the DOE Family Center, with M.S. 447's administration, their admissions counsellor? To see how he's classified. The IEP, getting it transferred and updated. His health status – 504 accommodations."

"Liv," Brian pressed at her firmly and so evenly. "Next step is telling Benj. Then we take it from there – tomorrow. Next week. After spring break. Not tonight. Tonight – take the win."

She shook her head out of it. "You're right," she allowed. She rubbed her face for a moment. "I can't believe he got in. I was expecting … I don't know … 107. Or 51 if we got lucky."

"Take the win, Liv," Brian put to her again.

"You're right," she allowed again. She exhaled. "You're right." And she shook her head. "The exploratory curriculum, inquiry-based learning. This might get us – him – back on track, Bri. We've been prepping him for this kind of education."

"I know," he said but she heard him shifting again. More movement on his end of the line.

"All those hours at the dining room table and the kitchen counter and the backyard. The library, the parks programs. We might be … close to it paying off. A turning point - this might be it for him."

"So let's keep aiming for that," he agreed. "Babe, I've gotta run. But I'm right there with you. Happy too. Stay there in the moment for a bit. Don't go jumping ahead of ourselves. We'll get there with the rest of it."

"I hear you …," she said. He was right. And she needed to hear that from him – to keep her balanced out from going into hyper-vigilant mom mode.

"OK …," and it hung there for a moment. Like he was measuring her from across down – on that opposite side of the line. "So I'll see you in a bit. Have … fun? … with Jack. Don't let him play the Jack Ass with you tonight. Really fucking deserve to enjoy this bubble for a few."

"And I hear you there too …," she sighed.

There was a beat. "Love you …," he allowed.

And she smiled thinly. "You too," she said. "Glad you're on my team ..."

She could feel him smile a bit too but also heard him back on the move. "Tonight. Don't tell Big Man without me."

"Wouldn't," she allowed.

Brian had earned this moment too. Team work. It'd been a whole lot of team work to get this far. To be a family. To raise these kids. She'd started alone – but she'd never been alone. She'd had a whole lot of help. She'd had Brian's help from near the get. It was his moment too. Benji was his too – as hard as that was for the person she was gazing at through the windows to fully accept and acknowledge.

"Good. Can't wait," he said and that was all that got said and the line cut out. But it was enough. Tonight, tomorrow and the next day. The next week and month and year.

But for now – a happy moment, a small success – to enjoy. And hopefully to share. Now. And later – as a family. But she gazed out the window at Jack – smiling and happy in that moment too. And she so wanted him to stay that way. Through this and with them. There was something else to aim for – to hope for. But sometimes, these days, still felt like it was asking a little much.

**Reviews, feedback and comments are appreciated.**


	33. Measures of Success

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia nudged up to Jack as they started on their walk out of the Contemporary Art Center. She gave him a big smile as she gave him the little jab with her elbow.

He'd been being so serious. And overtly professional in a way she'd never seen him be before. It'd been fascinating – and a real treat – to get a glimpse of this side of him. To get to watch him work. As he paced around the large outdoor courtyard of the building that so combined industrial the modern contemporary. An outdoor space that had become known as one of the most outstanding summer backyards in New York City. Olivia thought that was likely pushing it a little bit – but in her many years ago previous life – she had definitely been to some of the summer programming and music presentations and outdoor art exhibits in the space that had become so affiliated with the Museum of Modern Art.

She'd been … near floored … when Jack had very casually invited her to come with him to tour the space that might be his – if he was very, very, very lucky. She knew he still had five other young architects – from some major firms and established, highly regarded schools and institutions – but the reality was that he'd made it this far. That was an achievement in itself. For a kid like Jack – his background, everything he'd been through – that he'd even managed to make it this far and succeed this much was a huge achievement. Olivia was so glad he was giving her a small taste of it – an opportunity to enjoy some of it ith him – even if he didn't go any farther in this "competition". It was so much more than that. The Young Architect program at the CAC was a huge headline to have on his resume. Being selected by the Spitzer School as their submitting candidate was huge enough. To actually have made it into the final rounds of the "competition" and this opportunity that basically amounted to a real, live job that might just be a hallmark of his emerging career – was … incredible.

And had just dropped it on her while he was pulling on his coat and nearly out the door after staring at the final season of Game of Thrones she'd be getting to watch with him that Sunday. He hadn't even told her he'd advanced farther in the process before that. And he'd previously downplayed when Spitzer had nominated him as their entrant that year. She'd been excited for him – happy for him, proud of him. But likely more overly enthusiastic than he wanted. She'd got told that "Everyone puts in a nominee. It's not big deal." There was no getting him to agree that even being picked out of the crop at Spitzer was an achievement. He wouldn't acknowledge that that meant he had professors and mentors and advisors at the architecture school who'd just named him the crème of their crop. Nor would he acknowledge that even if he was in a pile of a hundred or more other candidates – he was in the company of people who were considered the shining lights as the next generation of architects in the United States. That was an achievement too. But no. She'd just again got told, "The theme this year is environmental sustainability and urban recycling. That's basically my thesis. And I specialized in outdoor installations. It's pretty much a given that Spitzer would consider me." Jack – they hadn't 'considered you'. They 'picked you'. But to him that was semantics.

Maybe he'd downplayed the whole thing enough that Olivia had actually let herself have a momentary hesitation when he brought up that he'd advanced and was invited to a walk-through of the area that – if he did get named their Young Architect – that he'd be taking his drawing concept all the way through to construction. That he'd be creating the outdoor space that New Yorkers and visitors to the city would be moving through that summer. That he'd be responsible for combining shade, seating, water, music and play in an innovative temporary installation. It was sort of mind-boggling. To her – but he wasn't treating it that way at all. And it'd flicked through her head that the night of the walk through was the night before Benji's next treatment, that her and Brian were both just slammed with their caseloads at work right before they'd be trying to get a few days away from the job for their family and, that managing that and the kids was a bit much for both of them right then. So she'd almost said 'no', that she couldn't. Since it 'wasn't a big deal'.

But Olivia stopped herself. She'd calmed herself – and she'd agreed that she'd absolutely like to see the space. Even though she had seen it before – though not empty and vacant like it had been that afternoon as they took their walkthrough.

It'd been worth it to see it that way. To experience what it looked like – that then people like Jack – went and turned it into something entirely different every summer and every winter season. It'd been even more worth to get to watch him make his sketches and take some of his measurements. To watch from a far as he chatted with the museum staff – asking questions and pointing out to various areas of the enclosed space. Watching him speak with some of the other architects – mentors – on site. To flipping through the blueprints that were available and collecting his packets of information to go home and create his proposal for the space. Watching him not so covertly survey some of the other young, up-and-comers that had also been booked for their walk-through at the same time. Like he could gaze at them and gauge what they were thinking of doing just be watching where they were pointing or what they were sketching or looking at.

Jack had even asked her some questions – about where she remembered things being set up in the past. What the structures looked like. What the flow of people was like. What she liked and didn't like. A lot of it she couldn't really remember or wouldn't have really noticed or noted in the way or detail she knew Jack wanted – but she still tried to give answers as best she could. But she mostly just enjoyed watching him – from a distance, giving him lots of space.

She knew that was expected of her. She knew that was what was appropreiate in the situation. But it wasn't just that particular situation. It was just life with Jack these days. Having a son who was twenty-five – a man who wasn't quite a man. And her his mom who wasn't quite his mom. It was a strange dynamic. But they'd always had a strange dynamic. But Olivia would admit that she felt like it had gotten harder as Jack aged. Likely because she hadn't gotten to be part of those formative years of his. Maybe if she had been there for him when he was a teenager – after his dad died – it would've been a little different. But instead she was more a … guardian in his life when he'd needed that. A female role model that maybe he'd looked up to in certain ways. But … she really wasn't quite his mom – even if she'd technically adopted him … as an adult. It wasn't really a role – or a relationship – she knew how to define. But Jack was still family.

He was just at an odd age. This age where you drew too many parrells to yourself. To where you were in your life at that age. When you were old enough to be an adult – but when Jack really wasn't. Even though he was in other ways. There were things about him that just rubbed her the wrong way. He was a near constant reminder of why in her twenties she hadn't been too interested in having a relationship – because boys – men – this age? Well, as much as Jack had the looks, he definitely wasn't a catch in a lot of other ways. Lots of little things – little moments – came up with him that made her go, (internally, she'd never say it to him), 'This is why my relationship with your father went no where'. Little things he said and did – little personality quirks reminded her so much of that man in her life from so long ago. That period of her life. Then there were other things about Jack – other things he said and did and little personality quirks – that reminded her so much of Brian. And it'd take her back twenty years again and remind her of where she was in her life then, how she felt about relationships then, and who Brian was then – the kind of man he was. The things he wanted out of life and a relationship.

It was just at twenty-five – she knew that Jack's father was a father. At twenty-five she'd already had a pregnancy scare – a miscarriage. She'd finished school and gone through the Academy and was walking the beat. She'd already started moving up a least a little bit – setting the stage to get her shield and move into SVU. That Brian was in a similar boat. College and the Academy and establishing his career. Making contacts and connections and working cases and doing his job well enough that he got enough attention and praise that he'd got his shield while still in his twenties too. And that wasn't an easy feat. That Brian was at the point – Olivia knew – that he was starting to think about relationships and marriage and family in a real way. That he was thinking about kids and wanting to be a father. He was hitting mileposts as an adult. That Jack's father would've graduated. That he would've been raising children – two children by then. Working – preparing to move back to the farm and help his own parents while raising his own family as a single parent.

And then there was Jack? Sometimes Olivia wondered. Even with the hard knocks and mishaps she knew Jack had – that she knew were going to affect how he lived his life and how he experienced and navigated relationships and if he ever started a family of his own – she still worried. But then there were moments like this – and for as 'delayed' Jack was, this was still an achievement. A milestone. If he let it be.

"Thank you for letting me tag along," she smiled as him as they headed toward the entrance – and the exit.

He only shrugged. "Sure." Again being so nonchalant about all this. When it wasn't something that should be treated that way.

"You have any ideas on what you're going to propose for the space?" she tried. Because she'd love to know.

But he glanced around like she shouldn't be talking about that. "Yea, some," he muttered. And gave her a look that clearly said she was supposed to shut up about it.

"Like what?" she tried anyway.

"I'll tell you later," he mumbled at her.

"OK … are you sure you don't want to stay to look at any of the other exhibits?" she asked as they neared the door.

"No," he muttered. "That wouldn't be appropriate. Today."

She nodded. She wasn't sure she agreed – or understood. To her it seemed like it would give him a better view of the institute as a whole and the kind of displays it was favoring in the moment. But at the same time she knew that Jack would've been there many times before. And that he could come back on his own or research the current exhibits online.

He at least held the door open for her when they got to it. Though, she sort of felt like that was to usher her out more quickly than it was him being any kind of gentleman.

"Well … then … I was hoping to pop into a couple stores in the area since I'm up here, if you want to tag along …?" she tried. "Get some dinner after?"

He gazed at her. She thought he was likely going to say no but then he shrugged again and started down the steps. "Like what?"

She followed after him, as Jack glanced over his shoulder at her. "I don't know. What do you feel like?"

He gave her a look. "What stores?" he said with a bit too much obnoxious put-down in his voice. She hated when he put on that voice – like he was still a teenager. But she left it. This time.

"There's a speciality toy store I'd like to go into and a European chocolate shop."

He really gazed at her. "I thought Easter was cancelled."

She exhaled and shook her head. "Jack, I just had a really nice time with you. I'm feeling really proud of you. So, please, don't be like that."

"And you don't be like that," he said. "'Proud' talk."

"Now I'm not supposed to be proud of you?" she rolled her eyes at him.

"You're not supposed to be making this a big deal."

"Jack," she pressed at him. "This," she waved back behind them at the museum, "is a very big deal. You realize that whether your design concept is selected or not – Spitzer putting you forward as their candidate – that goes right at the top of your resume. This is doors opening, Jack. In architecture. In what you've studied. What you're so talented at. Passionate about."

He shook his head and paced ahead of her. "Not this again."

She strode forward to catch up. "Yes, this again, Jack."

He glared. "Then maybe I don't want to go shopping with you for whatever 'cancelled Easter, not Easter' errands you're doing. Or sit through eating with you."

She stared at him. It stung – but she expected it. She knew there'd be a point that night where he'd pull that threat. Or he really would walk away from her – because he was so uninterested in talking, in hearing her out.

"Fine," she made herself say – even though it wasn't fine. Even though she hated he was being that way. Even though she really wanted these few hours with him because she didn't know when she'd get the next few hours of alone time with him again – because it was all so few and far between now. "But I'm going to keep on saying it – all of it - until you hear me, Jack."

He groaned at her and moved a bit faster – not fast enough to leave her in his dust or to make her feel like she was supposed to stay there on the curb. To hail a cab and just leave him be. So she moved to catch up, to get back into step with him. She wished it was that easy to get back in sync with him in terms of their conversation and relationship. Why were boys – men – this age so hard? So hard when she was that age too. So fucking hard now when she was supposed to be a parent and guardian and role model to one. This just made her terrified for dealing with Benji at this age. Made her terrified about his pending teens too. She didn't want years and years coming up with relationship with her children – her family – to look like this.

"Jack, you've put almost seven years of your life into this," Olivia tried a little more evenly. "It's what you've wanted to do since you were a teenager. I do not understand why now – especially when you've got all sorts of signs, significant people – telling you that you are good at this, that you are running away from it."

"We aren't talking about this," he muttered at her.

"Sweetheart, I can tell something is scaring you. I wish you'd talk to me about what that is. Fear of failure? Fear of success? Just growing up? Change? Having your own life? You know I want all those things for you – for you to successful and happy and to live your own life, the way you want. I thought that's what we'd all been working toward for all these years."

He gave her a firm look. "We aren't talking about this," he pressed again – harder.

"We are going to have to talk about this, Jack. Eventually. Soon."

"No, we don't," he glared. "You've already had Brian do you dirty work."

Olivia ran her hand through her hair. "Brian isn't doing any of my 'dirty work', Jack. Brian talks to you – because you'll talk to him. You won't talk to me. I don't know what. I don't understand why. Why are we like this right now, Jack? Tell me that."

He just glared more. "We don't need to talk. I already heard Brian. And your opinion. You aren't a gravy train."

She exhaled. "Jack, I have never used the words 'gravy train' in any talk I've had with Brian about any of this. About you. And neither has he – not to me and not in relation to you."

He shook his head. "Whatever. You aren't supporting me if I go to Law School. You aren't even supporting me if I want to do my Urban Design post-grad."

"Jack, you're twenty-five," she sighed at him. "We will support you – in it being your life and your decision. But …" she shook her head and looked at him. "You're twenty-five," she pressed again. "We shouldn't have to be helping keep you financially a float right now. Not so you can go and get more education. You have a world-class education with your professors and mentors and potential employers telling you you are very employable, Jack. You don't need another piece of paper right now. That's my opinion – no matter how much you don't like it or don't want to hear it."

"Right," he muttered. "Only I don't have a job. I don't even have a job offer."

"You have job offers, Jack," she sighed. "It's just maybe your first job isn't going to be in New York City."

"And right now is a real good time for me to what? Go off to Texas or California or fucking Australia?" he pressed.

She shrugged. "That's not my decision," she allowed. "But if I were you – I'd at least

consider those opportunities. You're only young once. You don't have anything—"

"I've got Jamin here. And I thought I had you and Emmy and Brian too," he pressed.

She sighed. "You do, Jack. But we don't expect you to live your life around us."

"Right, so instead you put up roadblocks so I can't be around you. So I have to go and take some job in some other fucking place rather than stay here."

She exhaled. "Jack, there was a point where you dreamed about getting offered a job on the West Coast."

"That was then. This is now."

"OK," she allowed. "Then … I don't think it's me putting up roadblocks to you finding a job in New York, sweetheart. But I can't say I've got advice on how to do that. Though, I'm going to hope for you that this nomination helps you out there."

"Right," he muttered. "And if it doesn't – I still can't afford to live here anymore. And I can't be unemployed living in your basement. That's reserved for Brian's mom."

Olivia really rolled her eyes at that. "It is not reserved for Janet. Neither me or Bri want his mother living in our garden apartment."

"Funny how she is suddenly moving then. And you've left the unit vacant for months."

"Because we didn't want to try to find a tenant in winter, Jack," she sighed at him. "And when we've got two little kids – we're pretty picky about who we want living there. We haven't had time to deal with it. Or with a fucking real estate agent. It's that simple."

"Yea. Simple - I'm not allowed to live there," he muttered.

She gazed at him. "Is this really what all the attitude the past … all winter, Jack … has been about?"

He just shrugged at her.

Olivia glared. "We told you, we are willing to consider you moving in down there," she said. "But you will be a tenant, Jack. We will charge you rent – and we will expect it paid to us on time. And we will expect notice if you suddenly decide you that you don't like the commute and want to move back into Manhattan. Or if you decide you don't like that your brother and sister are wanting to come down and bug you all the time. Or you don't like your parents living upstairs – and ask you to help with some childcare duties from time-to-time to help compensate for the lower than market value rent you've made clear you're expecting to pay."

"Wow, you make it sound like I'm so welcome there …" he muttered at her.

"You're welcome," she said. "But you're a grown man, Jack. I really don't think you actually want to be living in our basement."

"It's a garden apartment," he said sarcastically.

"At this point - that's semantics, Jack. And the reality is – if you aren't starting a full-time job in some capacity soon, no matter what kind of cut rate Brian and I are willing to give you because of who are you are to this family, you still aren't going to be able to afford it. We aren't willing to just let you stay there for free."

"Right, because you'd rather have it sit empty for months," he muttered.

"This is the first time I'm hearing in months that you have any interest in living down there," she pressed back at him.

He gave her a look. "It wasn't like you were offering it up."

She kept his eyes. "Yes, Jack, we did offer it up. You said you were interested. Brian and I had a long talk about it. We told you our terms. And you clearly didn't like them – because you never brought it up again. Until this little tantrum."

"And now Janet is moving in," he said.

She nearly laughed. "Janet is not moving in. That is not happening. She hasn't even mentioned it."

"OK. Fine. Whatever. But I'm not allowed to take the apartment and you've pretty much told me you're cutting me off if I decide to go back to school."

"We did not say that," Olivia pressed. "We would just like you to … explore this career you've invested so much time and money into already. And to try to get a job in your field. Or at least … start working full-time, Jack. Doing something."

"Like doing my Masters, working two part-time jobs and going to all these interviews and mentorships and internships isn't doing something."

She sighed at him. "Jack, you're twenty-five. You live in Manhattan. You-"

"I live in a glorified closet," he said.

"And that's your choice. You wanted to stay in Manhattan. You didn't want a roommate. You know how much that costs. Brian and I aren't going to fill in a thousand dollar-plus gap—"

"You do not give me a thousand dollars per month," he pressed at her.

"You're right," she said. "We don't. Because I don't know what kind of family you think you went and got yourself adopted into, Jack – but that kind of family, we are not."

"You definitely are not," he muttered.

She glared. "Sorry, Jack. I don't know what kind of kids you're hanging out with up at City or in these architecture firms. What kind of high society you apparently are part of. I was unaware of that. But we both know that every month money is still getting transferred to your account. And it's going there – because as your mother,"

"Don't do that," he mumbled.

"I will do that," she said. "You wanted to be adopted. I wanted to adopt you. I wanted you to be a part of my family – our family. So I took responsibility for you – adult you, Jack. Such as that is. And it means that as your mother – I'm trying to help. I'm trying to keep you afloat. I don't want you driving yourself into even more ridiculous debt than you already are. And I don't want you blowing through what your father left you just because you can't decide what you want to do with your life. That trust money should be going toward starting you life, Jack. Helping with a downpayment on a condo, getting your first car, paying off your student loans – not taking out new ones!"

"Why do you always have to keep saying 'Brian and I' and 'we' in all this," he muttered at her.

She gave him a look. "Really? That's what you got out of all that?"

He just cast her a glance. "He's not your husband. He's not my anything."

"OK, Jack," she shrugged. "He's not your 'anything'. In the very least, I think you'd call him your friend at this point. Better – he's family, Jack. He is a huge part of my life. He is a huge part of Benjamin and Emily's life. So I'd appreciate you not saying that he's 'not your anything' to his face. Or around Benji and Emily either."

He did his best to completely ignore her. She knew he wasn't.

"Brian's a part of your life too, Jack. And he cares a lot about you too. He's pretty proud and happy for you with this achievement here too. He just wants you to get your ass in gear and start growing up and taking some adult responsibility a bit more than you are. Same as me."

"Because Brian Cassidy excels at adult responsibility," Jack muttered.

She grabbed his elbow at that, tugging him to a stop, and he gave her a surprised look. "You don't get to talk that way about him," she drilled into him. "You and Brian aren't so different, Jack. There's going to be some point soon that you're going to realize that. You're going to realize that the reason you two butt heads – is because you're the same fucking person. And even if you can't accept that, Jack - you know the kind of father he is to Benji and to Emmy. You know how much he loves them. And you know how much those kids love him right back. So whether you like it or not – in our house – he is providing half the support to raising and caring for our children. He is bringing home half our family's income. And whether our bank accounts are connected or not, Jack, which is none of your business – it still means he is involved in our family's planning and finances. And that means – every month when I'm giving you extra financial support – it's not just me. It's us. It is Brian too. It is our family's income – supporting you. Because you are family. And Brian has every right to have some opinions and say about that. And he is not being unreasonable or unfair – and he has never, ever put up any kind of fuss about me taking money out of a family budget where there are two small children at home to give to an adult son who insists on living in his own apartment in fucking Manhattan. So don't you dare start giving me lip about Brian and the kind of man he is."

He pulled his elbow out of her grip and glared at her. "It's your money. Not his."

"Some of the household's money is my money," she pressed at him. "Some of it is Brian's. But at this point in our lives, Jack, it is money we are using to raise and support our family. And you know what, Jack? Dollars and cents - I'd really like to be putting more of it toward my six year old and ten year old – toward saving for my retirement. Not toward a twenty-five year old who's working part-time skateboard jobs and still going to school."

"Thanks," he said. "That really makes me feel like you're 'so proud'."

"I am," she said. "I'd be prouder if you started living up to your talent rather than getting afraid of it and running away from it every time something happens to affirm you are talented, Jack. Very talented. You can have a good, grown-up life. You are a grown-up. You're twenty-five. And if you make good choices right now – you stop running scared - you won't have to be living in a closet in the scuzzy part of scuzzy Chinatown."

He stared at her but then his eyes diverted and he started walking again.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**This chapter was getting a bit long so I decided to split it. The next one will be a continuation of the same scene. Not sure when it will be posted. Will be at least 24 hours apart. Maybe more as I'm not done writing it yet. And not sure I will get to it this weekend.**

**Enjoy whatever holiday you may be marking this weekend. Or your spring break if you're in an area that's off for that.**


	34. Nurturing Nature

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia continued to move after Jack – to strive to keep pace with him. To just keep trying to be there for him. It felt a bit like the tortoise and the hare. He'd let her catch up and she'd get the tiniest moment of feeling like he was opening up to her – that they were finding some sort of common ground to meet on, that he was hearing her out – and then it was like he sprinted forward again and tried to leave her in his dust. So she'd have to hope that whole fable played true. She just kept pace – and eventually she'd win this little game of leap frog. Parenting – and growing up too – certainly wasn't a race. It was more like a different obstacle course with new booby traps set with each different kid.

"So why are we going to a toy store if you aren't doing Easter basket this year?" Jack muttered next to her. Previous topic dropped and back to this hang-up. Typical Jack.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and eyed him. Every conversation with him anymore – this was what it was like. Fighting words over and over again. And she didn't even know what they were arguing about half the time. What was actually underneath all these fights he kept on picking with her. Was that what parenting a young man looked like?

There was something she could actually bring herself to talk to Janet about – because Olivia didn't imagine Brian was any easier. Though, the way Janet told it her son 'came back to her' after he got into the Academy. That it was teen years that were dark and moody – and she'd just seen it as a teenaged boy growing into a man. By the time he was about twenty-one, twenty-two, she started to see her son again – started to be able to enjoy having time around him again and not feel like it was a game of walking on eggshells. It was a different set of eggshells then, though. Worrying about him as a grown man – and the kinds of relationships he was having or wasn't developing. When – and if – he'd start a family. If he'd get hurt at work and the kind of cases he was working on.

At least Olivia wouldn't have to worry about some of that with Jack – she hoped. But she also had an adult son who was twenty-five and she was still waiting for that dark, moody phase to pass and for her to start feeling like she got to see more of those moments in him that she'd previously loved so much. Not that Jack had ever been an easy person – or relationship – in her life to navigate. A ray of sunshine he was not. But there were reasons for that. She had to be forgiving – understanding. She knew she'd never been entirely easy for him either.

But she didn't think mothers were really supposed to be. Though, of course, she'd say differently of Benji. But that was different too – he was her little boy. He came to her as a little boy. She was raising him as her little boy. It was an entirely different dynamic she had with Benjamin.

"We're doing baskets," she said of his ongoing Easter hang-up that was likely meant to be more of a guilt trip. "Or eggs."

She wasn't too interested in the guilt trip. And she really wasn't at the point she was ready to give him some spiel on what their Easter would or wouldn't look like. She hadn't really decided yet. It'd depend on a lot of things. But as for baskets – versus eggs - she could either put the two little Lego sets in a basket for the kids or she could open them up and divvy up the pieces in eggs and let them hunt for them. It'd depend on where they ended up being and how the kids were feeling. How her and Brian were feeling too.

"Since when?" he muttered. "I thought you weren't even going to be here for Easter."

She sighed at that. There was the next push in the guilt trip attempt. "Jack … I told you whatever we're doing, you're welcome to join us."

He shrugged. "It's sort of hard to make plans when you don't even tell me what the plan is."

She cast her eyes over to him. "Sorry," she pressed at him firmly, her annoyance growing again. "It's sort of hard for us to make plans when we've got a ten-year-old boy at home that we're taking in to the hospital to have what's usually used as chemotherapy drugs dripped into his body two days before the start of his Spring Break, Jack."

It got a look. A sadder one. She'd made her point. Guilt trip stopped for the moment – but only because she'd rubbed salt in a wound that was hurting all of them.

"What we do will depend on how he's feeling," she said more gently. "He was in pretty rough shape for the first three days after the first treatment."

"Has he said to you if he wants me to come into the hospital this time?" Jack asked so quietly – nearly hurt. "He goes mute when I say anything about any of this … stuff … to him."

Olivia sighed at bit at that and shook her head. "Jack … I think he's still … he doesn't know how to interact with it. And he … he's struggling with other people trying to interact with him about it. It's not just you. He just doesn't know how to talk about it yet or how to cope with other people knowing or what that might mean. It's … really confusing for him."

"So, in other words, you don't want me to be there," he said.

She shook her head again. "That's not what I said and it's not what I meant. If you want, you can come," she allowed. "But how the infusion room is set up, Jack, they are even only letting one of us in at a time. They're really careful because some of these kids … their immune systems. It's not the most comfortable situation or environment. I know how you are about hospitals and doctors."

"I can handle it," Jack pressed at her. "If Jamin's the one going through it and he's handling it – how is it that you think I can't handle it? Just being there?"

Olivia gave him a thin little frown. "Benji's barely handling it, Jack. He's … a brave, resilient kid. But our appointments since all this – they've been pretty rough on … all of us. Benji has been … there's been different points in all this that he's been very specific about wanting me with him or wanting Brian with him. I'm not even sure you'd get the chance to be with him - beyond the waiting room."

"But he'd know I'm there," he said.

She nodded. "He would," she agreed. "And if you want to come and provide that kind of support – that's fine. But if you have other things to do – him seeing you later in the day or calling him that night or coming over on the weekend – that's just as supportive."

"You just said you can't say if you're even going to be here on the weekend," he said. Defence mechanism – back to the deflect and the hang-up again.

"Jack …," she shook her head at him – because she didn't want to delve into that again.

Jack exhaled a bit and stared at her. "I feel like lately I don't know how to be there for him. Or what he needs or wants from me."

Olivia shrugged a little. "I think we're all feeling that, sweetheart. I'm feeling that. Brian is too. It's an adjustment. It's this big, new dynamic and reality that we're all learning how to operate in."

"It's like all he ever wants – like wants to do or spend time with – is Brian," he mumbled.

And she looked at him as they walked. "My sense is that's pretty normal for a ten-year-old boy, Jack."

Jack gave her a look. "I don't even get half this stuff Jamin's into anymore. And like the only thing I can relate to him on – Brian goes and gets all on-board of."

Olivia made a little noise and rubbed her eyebrow. "Jack, Brian's not trying to skateboarding from you and Benji. He's just … trying to keep up and to relate to both of you. The man can … he stands on it, Jack. He's not someone Benji wants to go to the skate park with."

"But he does," Jack said.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Barely. There's nothing around us like that. That's a special outing with his big brother-uncle. Going skating with his dad is … no different than them going for a walk or a bike ride. It's them going from Point A to Point B and home again. It's transportation."

"Yea … Brian could've just stuck to all the sporto-jock-Gladiator crap," Jack muttered.

Olivia sighed a bit and looked at him. "Sweetheart, Benji likes lots of things Brian isn't interested in or has any kind of understanding of either. Things he wouldn't chose to put time into. He learns about them, he does them – because … they're our kids, Jack. We do the same with you. You know that I wouldn't be watching Walking Dead and Game of Throne and going to skateparks. It's just taking an interest. It's what you have to do. Sometimes you just … as more and more of their interests and talents and personalities come out … you just have to make yourself like them, learn about them. So you can support them and have a relationship with them."

"I do take an interest," Jack said. "And it's still … sports and super heroes and sports and super heroes."

"Again, he's ten, Jack," she sighed at him. "I think that's a fairly standard list."

Jack just made a frustrated little sound.

"He likes other things. Benji's so talented with some of the art and drawing," Olivia tried. "Like you. He loved you taking him and Emmy to that comic drawing class."

"I hate comic books," Jack muttered.

"But you took them," she said. "And they loved that outing and they loved spending time with you."

"The art and craft stuff is your thing with them," he said.

She cocked her head a bit at that. "I don't think Brian and I are staking claim to any particular 'thing' with the kids."

Jack just scuffed his feet for a couple step as they walked and she gazed at him.

"I get the sense you're in a phase where you aren't too sure about your place or role in the family again," she said. She got a little side-eye at that. "I can see how that might make deciding that your next step is more challenging, Jack. But wherever you are or whatever you decide to do – you still have a place in the family."

Jack shrugged. "Not really. Jamin needs me less and less. And Emmy … she's Emmy. She's always done her own thing from the get. They're both all about you guys."

Olivia tried a little smile at that but it was hard. Jack seemed hurt and sad. "I'm sort of all about them too, Jack. And so is Brian. They're our kids. Them wanting anything to do with us is only going to last so much longer. In a few years, Benji's likely going to want next to nothing to do with Brian. Or me. Or his little sister. But his big brother and uncle will likely be about the coolest person in the universe again."

Jack sighed at that and gazed at her. "It's just I don't know – lately – it's like … he thinks Brian is … " he shook his head. "Whatever."

"Well, didn't you have your dad up on a pretty high pedestal at that age too?" she put back to him. "That's just boys - masculine energy, male role models. Daddy's – Brian's - right there, every day now, Jack. He's Benji's example of what a man is supposed to be."

"Yea," Jack mumbled. "A guy who 'bangs whores'."

Olivia halted and gave him a look – a stern one. "Benji brought that up with you?"

"Guess you guys didn't explain that one so well to him," Jack said.

"And how did you explain it to him?" she pressed.

"Hopefully in a way that didn't leave him thinking that you're a 'sex worker', that 'hookers' are from Red Hook or having him telling people that 'banging is just another kind of sex' and his parents 'don't have banging or baby-making sex'," he looked at her. She could see that he was almost trying not to laugh but at the same time he was unimpressed. But so was she. "And you wonder why he's getting bullied at school. He's ten. He can't be saying shit like that."

"Jack," Olivia sighed.

Jack shrugged. "I didn't explain anything to him. Just said the kid was talking shit. And that he should just let the whole thing drop. Keep his mouth shut about all of it."

"Good …," Olivia said. "It was just … it's some kid and her mother stirring the pot a bit. I don't want any of us engaging more than we've already had to."

Jack made a sound. "You realize I can read and hear," he said. "I saw things, heard things while that trial was going on."

"And I hope you realize that all of that – in relation to my relationship with Brian – is none of your business, Jack."

He just looked at her. That over-protective son bit. The bit he pulled where she still saw glimmers of him not quite trusting and not quite liking Brian. They bubbled up from time-to-time. But Olivia knew that a lot of it had more to do with Jack's own insecurities than anything to do with Brian at this point. It was about place and role and title and the struggle for them to define that – at least when it came to Jack – within their family.

Olivia sighed. "Jack, it was a long time ago. It's something I've come to terms with. It's something that my relationship with Brian is long past. And it's not something that a ten-year-old boy needs to know or understand about his father. And it would be an inaccurate understanding – and a grossly inaccurate representation of what happened between Brian and that woman – anyways."

He just looked at her.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Look at it this way. Would it be appropriate for us to explain to Benji right now why we don't know who his biological father is? Or the kind of high-risk sex his biological mother engaged in?"

"That's different," he said.

She shrugged. "It's trying to quantify similar ideas – similar acts and morals and the justifications or in-justifications around them – to a ten-year-old boy." Jack just looked at her. "Would it have helped you to know those kinds of things about your mother or father when you were his age?"

And he shrugged. "Maybe if someone had I wouldn't feel like my dad lied to be me whole life while raising some whore's … whatever … bastards."

Olivia eyed him at that. "That's a little harsh," she said. And it was and it wasn't. It was harsh toward Jay. Maybe it wasn't harsh enough toward Jack's biological mother. "Your dad raised his son and his daughter," she said. "Not someone else's 'bastards.' Just like we're raising Benji and Emmy, Jack."

"You mean likely two kids of rapists," he muttered.

Olivia caught his eyes and kept them. "I mean definitely my son and my daughter," she said. "And just like we tell Benji and Emmy any time they want to talk about it and try to understand - a mom and dad are different than a mother or father."

"Great, a pep talk," he muttered. "I still think you need to work on the language of them. Because I'm pretty sure you have Benji completely confused about what exactly 'good sex' versus 'bad sex' versus the apparently sixty-billion other kinds of sex that people have are."

She rubbed her eyebrow and stared at him. "We're trying to have age appropriate conversations with them on difficult topics in ways they're comfortable with, Jack. That are reflective of our family and our values."

"The values of a family where he's getting told his dad bangs whores," Jack said.

"That is not what happened," Olivia said sternly. "That's not the narrative that's going to be allowed to take root. And Benji and Emily have both been through enough and come from situations complex enough. We don't want to add to it."

"I think you're making it way more complex than it needs to be," Jack muttered.

She exhaled and shrugged. "We're trying our best, Jack. They didn't come with instruction manuals."

"I think you can get one on Google," the sarcasm dripped from him.

"Well, Google tells me that the nature versus nurture debate is still alive and well," she said. "And my family tells me that genetics and biology only says so much about any of it. I'm a mom. Brian's a dad. And they're our kids. You're our kid. That's just our family. It's nothing any of us need to be ashamed of. It doesn't have anything to do with you, Benji or Emmy – beyond you having people who love you so much they were more than willing to raise you and support you and love you – biology, genetics or not."

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Will continue next chapter.**


	35. Faults

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

She pointed at the door of the toy store she'd herded him toward. He gave her a squinted look as he caught sight of the sign and the window display.

"Really?" he said.

It was more of a home-schooling store than a toy store and it really specialized in a lot of specialized toys and learning resources. A lot of them directed at kids with special needs – learning or otherwise. And that was a big part of the reason she wanted to go in. Her and Brian had been in before – usually around Christmas the past few years. They had a great science section. They'd gotten the kids their first microscope set and slides there that past Christmas. You'd think it was right up there as about the most thrilling thing they'd ever gotten them. But she wasn't looking for science or math toys that time. Just like the Autism Awareness Month window display that had caught Jack's eye announced – they had a lot of items for kids with sensory issues. They had a huge sensory and fidget toy section. And she had wanted to look at that for Benji.

Still Jack's look screamed how uncomfortable that made him – the labels Benji was getting. Jack hadn't excelled at dealing with the dyslexia diagnosis at all. About as close as he'd gotten to talking to her about it was to ask if it could've been from his sister's drug use or alcohol use during her pregnancy and Benji's infancy. So Olivia just rubbed briefly at her eyebrow now as they went inside. She knew where she was going – the layout of the store hadn't changed in the months since she was last inside.

"Benji's been asking about a Rubik's cube," she said. "I think the Easter Bunny might like to put one in his basket if it's in stock. And I just want to quickly go through the fidget toy aisle. Grab him something for the hospital tomorrow."

Jack trailed after her, looking at the shelves too. "I thought they had consoles set up for the kids or something during his treatment," he mumbled, picking up something called thumb-chucks and gazing at them. Those definitely wouldn't be the fidget item Olivia picked. They'd just be asking for something to get injured and likely go flying across her house at a higher velocity than the fidget spinner 'ninja stars' ever had.

"They do," she allowed, examining a Klixx type fidget widget that looked like a bicycle chain that would twist and be manipulated in all kinds of shapes. That was more what she was thinking for Benji.

"So let him play Fortnite. That's better than any fidget," he said.

She cast him a look. "We are not letting either of them venture into that realm," she said.

He caught her eyes. "He's basically getting chemo and you're still being a total boss about the videogames."

She shrugged and picked up an infinity cube, Jacob's Ladder toy to read its packaging instead. "With Fortnite, yes."

"You realize I was almost his age and playing Halo," Jack said.

"Good for you," she said, shifting her eyes over to just one of the more traditional fidget cubes. She wasn't sure exactly what might steady and calm Benji. She might end up buying a couple. She knew he fiddled with something called a tangle and this squishy, stress ball thing the times they'd been in the social worker and patient navigator appointments. She had been hoping to spot something similar.

"That Brian pretty much knows more about videogames – is probably better at Halo, Call of Duty, all the first-person-shooters and co-operatives – than me," he provided.

She gave him a glance and shrugged. "And I think that likely has something to do with him very clearly expressing that he doesn't want our kids playing any of that any time soon."

Jack gave a huff at that and picked up some sort of spiny, textured slap bracelet, slapping it over his wrist and running his palm over it. He must've liked the sensation – he made the movement several times.

"How is it that you are somehow the Good Cop about videogames and he's the tyrant?" Jack muttered.

Olivia shrugged. "It's a loss on me how that one happened too," she allowed. Because it was. She wouldn't have expected that one. But sometimes Brian really was more patient than her. There were definitely times that she let the kids have screen time just to get a bit of almost quiet time in the house and her life. Or Brian was just better at growling at them and scarring them into silence.

"You realize he plays the Bad Cop but then I think his favorite Christmas gift was Red Dead Redemption. The guy talked at me for like, I don't know, 20 minutes on the weekend about how to properly select your horse in that game. He was fucking relating it to Forza. Horse power and horse power don't go hand-in-hand buddy."

Olivia allowed a quiet amused noise. Brian got hung up on strange things. But so did Jack and Benji and Emily. She was sure Brian said the same thing about her. Maybe it was a good thing they hadn't had a baby together. Beyond their age opening them up to a child with autism or downs syndrome or other developmental delays – she saw what 'nurture' did to their children. She was almost scared to think what they'd have ended up with if genetics were thrown into the mix too. They'd been blessed with little human beings that were way more than unique enough. Far too much of a quirky mix of her and Brian in all the right and wrong and absolutely frustrating ways as it was.

"Well, as much as he might like that game-"

"It's basically the game of the century," Jack muttered.

"Ah," she allowed. She thought it was a little early in the century to make that kind of ranking. But … boys … and their toys. "Yet, it's April and he's not done it yet. Work and kids don't allow a lot of time for videogames."

"Maybe if he picked his fucking horse faster," Jack provided. "And didn't spend all his money to upgrade the horse."

Olivia made an amused sound but shook her head. She wasn't going to pretend she had any sort of knowledge or interest in that game. She might put some interest in videogames when it came to relating to the kids and spending some low-key time with them (that never seemed so low-key because enviably someone always ended up having some kind of over-competitive and unskilled and not-enough-players, not-shared-well-enough meltdown about the stupid games). But when it came to Brian actually turning on the console when the kids were actually asleep – that was her cue that she had some 'me time'. Reading, bath, going and watching something in bed. Or more likely – dealing with work emails and paperwork, doing meal prep or putting through some loads of laundry. But she definitely didn't feel the need to spend time sitting on the couch with Brian watching him play that thing. Or trying to follow its (not so riveting to her) plot.

"What about Spider Man? Jamin's been saying since Christmas he wants to play that too."

"I know," Olivia allowed. "But it's rated Teen and it's one player. One player games create major fights in our house. You know that."

"Yea – but as a distraction at the hospital? I mean, that has to be better than this," he said and slapped the thing around his wrist again.

Olivia gave him an amused smile. It was clearly holding his attention – but she didn't point that out.

"Last time he just wanted to watch a movie – Spider Man," she said. "He slept through most of it. The anti-nausea medication they put in the IV is actually also a sedative. The fidget is for waiting room anxiety. There's a process and a lot of hurry up and wait before we get him into the chair."

Jack gave her a pained look at that. And she offered him a thin-lipped smile – trying to assure him it was OK. She flapped the clicking chain widget at him and gestured that she was moving on. She'd see how Benji felt about that one. It looked like she might have to order the Tangle online for next time.

Jack again followed her as she wandered down the puzzle toy aisle. Olivia gaped a little as she did. She knew that Rubik's cubes were popular but she didn't have any idea just how many types of them there were – all shapes, colors and sizes. So many it took her several long seconds to just spot the original three-by-three cube. But she stopped and stared at it for a long beat before glancing at the others, second-guessing if it was actually the original that Benji wanted or if her creative, puzzle-minded, budding physicist-scientist had something else in mind.

She shook her head and pulled her phone from her pocket, snapping a picture of the one in her hand and then of the whole three-tiered shelving containing all the rest of the puzzles. She shot the first one off to Brian: 'Is this what he wants?' she said and then followed up with the picture of the dozen or so other choices: 'Or is it one of these?!'.

Jack picked up one that was called The Void and studied it. And then one that was some sort of pentagon shape. Though the packaging said it was a dodecahedron. That was some Fifth Grade math terminology that was boggling her mind in the moment.

"That's some industrial design," Jack muttered and then flashed it at her. "Pretty lit."

She shook her head. "He's never done one before. I think that's a little advanced."

Jack shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "Depends how it moves on its axis's. Jamin's got pretty good spatial awareness for that kind of stuff. There'd be some algorithm to the sequence of moves. Math. So pattern recognition and then muscle memory to make the movements repeatedly. Isn't that basically all he's doing with his hockey and basketball shit too."

"There's arguably more skill involved than that," she muttered. Brian had texted back a 'WTF?' at the picture of the choices and then just said: 'That one'. She was going to assume it meant the original – and not a find Waldo of something on the shelf.

"There's arguably less Neanderthal involved in this," Jack said, wagging the package at her.

"I'm going with this one," she said and moved toward the cash.

"What? The Easter Bunny isn't getting Emmy some sort of mind-game too?"

She shot him a smile at that. "The Easter Bunny has gotten Emmy taken care of," she said.

Jack raised his eyebrow. God. There was nurture right there. She knew it. She'd rubbed off on him. But she wasn't going to tell him that. He'd likely be mortified.

"We were pretty sure that Emmy would end up with a collection of Fingerlings at her birthday," she said.

Jack made a noise and really gave her a look. "With your guys repeatedly expressed weirdness about toys?" he said and gestured around them. "Look at this place. This is your definition of a toy store."

She gave her eyes a little roll. "Well, apparently the Easter Bunny isn't as 'weird' about toys as us. And I have it on good authority one of those things will be in her basket on Sunday."

Jack made another noise. "Which one?"

"I don't know," she said. "Brian's handling it."

"You sent Brian to buy a Fingerling?"

"Brian likely sent his mom to buy a Fingerling."

"You know that thing is going to drive you insane."

"Hopefully its batteries wear out quickly," Olivia muttered. But she'd stopped to look at a little Detective-Spy Decoder Kit that came with one of those water-pens to reveal the clues and solve the mystery.

"You know Jamin's likely going to want one too," Jack crept up next to her and picked up another one off the rack.

"Benji's getting a Rubik's cube," she said flatly. She was hoping that he'd outgrown Fingerlings. But who knew. Ten was a strange age. They're growing up on you but they're still such little boys. And she wasn't anywhere near ready to let go of her little boy – so she might not be overly upset if Benji ended up wanting a Fingerling too. It might make her hold onto hope that she had her Little Fox for at least a bit longer.

"And this?" Jack said flapping his water-reveal coloring book at her. "You know the way you're looking at this thing is exactly why Brian tells you all the time that the house isn't a home school or an art studio."

She rolled her eyes. It was also why she refrained from coming up to this store too often. Olivia knew she always ended up leaving with more stuff than she intended. They just had such neat stuff in here – that wasn't plastic, mindless crap.

"Well," she said, adding the little booklet to her pile, "like you said Jack, half the household's budget is mine. And Brian won't say a thing if it's for Benji at the hospital tomorrow."

She started moving toward the cash again. This time forcing herself not to look at anything else she was passing – or she knew something else would catch her eye. And Jack was right – then her and Brian would have that predictable conversation. And they'd likely both get frustrated and flustered with each other. And they didn't need that right now.

"What's Google tell you about the nature versus nurture of all this lupus stuff?" he asked a bit more faintly behind her.

She slowed a bit and gave him a little frown. "Jack, Benji having lupus is not your fault. It's no one's fault."

He gazed at her. "Is it Izzy's fault?" he asked directly.

Olivia exhaled and eyed him. They'd come to a full stop – standing in the middle of that store – surrounded by toys and activities that were supposed to bring little kids happiness, excitement and joy. This wasn't a conversation that elicited any of those feelings.

"All the doctors can really tell us is that there's a hereditary component to it," she said. "That can make some people more susceptible. But that it seems like there's usually an environmental trigger – they think likely a toxin or infection – that pretty more sends the autoimmune system haywire."

"So that sounds like it's Izzy's fault," he said flatly.

"Jack," Olivia shook her head and reached to grip his elbow again. "We really aren't framing that way. There isn't much point in framing it that way. It doesn't accomplish anything."

"I feel like it's my fault," Jack said.

She cocked her head at him. "Jack, it's not. You saved Benji. And placing blame about any of this … it's just draining all of us. There's no blame or fault. If anything, I feel awful. I'm his mother and I wasn't hearing what he was saying or understanding it or taking him seriously enough, Jack. I just kept treating it like a sore throat. I thought he might need his tonsils out or have kind of respiratory tract issue – asthma – worst case scenario. I feel … stupid. Mad at myself. But it's not accomplishing anything. It's not making any of this better or easier. And the doctors have told us that … lupus is so hard to diagnosis. It's a process of elimination and it's so rare they actually make the diagnosis in a child Benji's age. When they do it's usually an emergency situation. That's not where we're at. So it … it speaks volumes to us doing enough, being aware enough, being there enough, Jack. All of us. We caught this before it got worse. They're working to modulate the disease."

"I don't know what that means," Jack muttered.

"I don't either," Olivia admitted. "But I know we've got a lot of support at the hospital now and a lot of people trying to help us get this under control. And … Benji … he is seeming stronger. He seems more himself. He's not complaining about aches and pain as much."

"Accept for after treatment – which is chemo …," Jack said.

"A challenging few days is better than a challenging every day," she tried.

"He still seems tired all the time," Jack said. "He's always ready to just call it so quick when I try to do anything with him. Jump right to couch-time, screen-time."

Olivia nodded. "I know. But I really do feel like it's better than where he was most of the fall and winter. He seems to have more stamina even though he crashes after. He played basketball this weekend. We had them at the park. You had them out at the playground, skating. We had a lot of days this winter where hockey was all he could manage and then he hardly moved the rest of the weekend."

Jack took a deep breath and stared at the ground. Thinking, processing, internally berating himself. But Olivia just gestured again that she was going to pay. He eventually met her at the counter just as she finished paying the bill and they moved back out of the store to head to her next stop.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**And there will be one more continuation. It will deal with Jack's relationship and his perspective of Olivia's relationship with Brian.**


	36. Best Friends

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

"So does this mean I should actually be grabbing the kids something for Easter?" Jack asked as they left the store.

Olivia gave him a glance. "If you want. Just don't go overboard, Jack."

He made a noise and gave her some of those sarcastic eyes. "Is the egg hunt going to be 'coupons' again?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes at that. "Jack, the kids loved that."

She got another look. "You realize that you gave them 'coupons' to things you already do with them. Picking a movie, going out for ice cream, deciding on the take-out."

Olivia shrugged. "It makes them feel in control," she said. "Like big kids. And it's not plastic, Dollar Store, loot bag junk that will be broken and forgotten by Sunday afternoon."

"So you're saying going to the Dollar Store isn't on your list of errands tonight?" he teased.

She shrugged again. "If you want to go there or get them something from the Dollar Store, Jack, that's fine. Just please don't get them any of that blind bag crap."

"Ohhh," he said and cast her another look. "Is this where I get your spiel about how it is in essence introducing pre-schoolers to gambling?"

"It is," she said. "And I could actually get them nicer toys at the Dollar Stores I go into. And I really don't want to deal with meltdowns about them not getting the toy they want or a duplicate or thinking that LOL Dolls is what they are going to start spending their allowance on every week. Do you have any idea how much those things cost?"

"Do you have any idea how much a bottle of craft glue costs?" he put back to her. "And yet you buy it."

She sighed. "At least it's getting used for art and science projects."

He scuffed his feet on the sidewalk again. "How are the rubber eggs looking?" he asked of the experiment he started with the kids on Sunday.

She allowed him a thin smile. "Like not much to me. But they've had them completely silent and transfixed staring at them while they eat their breakfast cereal the past two mornings. So I'd say the experiment is working pretty well."

He made an amused noise and gave her a bit of a glance. "I saw a bunch of experiments could do with the extra jellybeans, if you actually end up being around. Peeps too."

She gave a little nod. She'd looked up some of that stuff too. Science and crafts. And parks and playgrounds. With some sports practice or the Y swimming pool thrown in. And a movie and take-out if they were lucky. That was their weekends. She really had to stock up on the science and craft ideas to keep some variety in there. Though, she was pretty sure that the kids – much like their dad – would be perfectly happy doing the same thing over and over and over again. They were with slime and with mixing baking soda and vinegar.

"Honestly, Jack, we're likely going to be around," she sighed. "The weather isn't supposed to be great. We aren't expecting Benji to be bounced back yet."

He gave her a look. "I thought you guys both booked a few days," he said. "Boston or whale watching or something?"

She sighed again and shook her head. "It's too cold. It wouldn't be fun. It's supposed to be rainy and windy all weekend. Maybe if the weather's decent we might do a bit of a daytrip, a drive, somewhere. Not far. Just a bit of a change of scenery."

He stared at her. "So you booked days off to sit around the house?"

She shrugged. "We booked some days off to have some family time," Olivia said. "If Benji's feeling up to it, we'll likely go to a couple of the museums. He's been asking about the Spy Museum and there's a couple new exhibits at the Natural History Museum that I'd like to get them to."

"You realize those places are going to be completely insane with Spring Break and Easter and Passover – and everyone taking a few days off for the holidays if they can and not wanting to be stuck inside for days on end if we're heading into shit weather and the parks and beaches become a non-option."

"I do realize that," she said. "But we'll figure it out. Maybe we'll go to a movie. Maybe we'll go a bit farther afield to avoid the Manhattan crowds and check out the museums in Nassau County or the Long Island Aquarium. I don't know. I'm serious – we are having a lot of trouble doing any kind of advanced planning right now. But we can call you when we see how Benji is in the morning and let you know what we're up to – and you can tag along if you want."

"A lot of that doesn't really sound like my kind of thing," he muttered.

She shrugged. "I know," she allowed. "But it's family time. It's about taking an interest to maintain the relationship. They're only little so long, Jack."

He made a sound and gave her a glance. "Yea, well, it's pretty much any other week or weekend for me. I basically just have Sunday off. Usual."

She gave a little nod. And she refrained from commenting on his extended commentary that made it sound like they were abandoning him over Easter – when apparently he didn't have any of his own time booked off work as it was. But she expected that. He wasn't at the age and stage of his life that he would. He did work part-time jobs still. He had his Masters thesis to wrap up. And now he had this CAC Young Architect design to get done. She fully expected that they'd be going through another period from now until into about June where Jack was a little scarce in their lives again.

"If you're around, though," he said. "I might come over Saturday night. Plant the jelly beans with them. See them do their egg hunt Sunday morning – even if it's once again super lame goodies the Bunny left."

She gave him a look. "They like the 'coupon', Jack. And I like they're about family time and experiences – not materialism and pre-diabetes. We're supposed to be watching the amount of sugar Benji eats right now – to try to reduce some of the inflammation in his body."

"Yea, but the Bunny must be delivering some candy this year," he pressed.

Olivia shook her head. "The Bunny is delivering Lego Bunnies – not chocolate bunnies this year."

He gave her another look. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He made a face.

"Jack," she pressed, "I don't need to get them candy. You'll do the planted jellybeans and I assume the candy flower to grow. If we're around on Friday or Saturday, I'm sure Janet will be by or wanting us to bring the kids over so she can do Bunny Bait with them. If we're around Sunday, again, I'm sure she'll be over at some point with some sweet dessert or sugar-coma breakfast."

"Brian's not doing breakfast?" Jack gaped.

She rolled her eyes. "What? If Brian's not doing breakfast and there's no chocolate in the baskets, you aren't staying over Saturday night?"

Jack shrugged. "Brian's definition of holiday brunch is about ten-times better than the bagels and cream cheese that you define as holiday-style breakfast."

"It is 'mom gets a holiday breakfast'," she said. Jack just tilted his head at her. He wasn't buying that. "Jack, you know Brian does a big breakfast on the weekend."

"Usually Saturday," Jack said. "I'm not usually there Saturdays. Holidays – he does it on the holiday. It is part of the reason I am still there Christmas morning and Easter morning."

"Right," Olivia said. "Your two little siblings have absolutely nothing to do with it."

He shrugged. "They sometimes are an added bonus – depending on their temperament. But a redeeming factor of tolerating Brian's presence in our family is that he's a much better cook than you."

"Thank you, Jack," she looked at him. "I really appreciate you saying that."

"You realize when we met you didn't have food or pots in your kitchen."

"And yet everyone is still alive and somehow much more nourished than when any of you arrived in my custody," she put back to him.

"Yea, that somehow might be … that you started fucking Brian – again - shortly after our arrival and he realized food was the way to everybody's hearts. And … your … "

"That's lovely, Jack," she muttered. "Thank you for framing a seven year relationship with the man I'm raising two children with in quite that way. Also a vastly inaccurate representation of how anything happened between us or within our family."

He gave her a smile and shrugged. "So is Brian making breakfast or not?"

She shrugged. "I would assume he'll be making breakfast. It hasn't been at the top of my list of things to talk to him about lately. But that is his routine."

"And what about dinner?" Jack said.

She gaped at him. "Jack, are you starving?"

He shrugged. "I can always eat."

"OK. Well, shockingly, our family also still tends to have dinner every day of the week. So, yes – there will be food on the table at dinner."

"What?" he asked.

"Again," she pressed at him, "that's not something we've particularly planned or talked about."

"Ham?"

She quietly groaned. "Maybe. Maybe steak – because Brian wants to get to use his barbecue."

"For Easter?" Jack in toned at her.

She shrugged. "I really don't know. And I really don't care. It will depend on how Benji's doing. It will depend on if we end up sending the day at home or out and about. It will likely depend on if people come over – or invite us over. If Don and Eileen stop by – again, I'm sure they'll have one of those chocolate eggs from her son's farm market for each of them. We have some a bag of mini eggs to put out for the egg hunt too. To share. That's more than enough sweets. And more than enough food."

He looked at her. "Then why are we going to some European chocolate place?"

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow. "I wanted to pick up something for Brian."

And she got a real teasing look at that. "You're going to spend … what like twenty-plus bucks on some bougie-ass chocolate rabbit for Brian? Do you know Brian Cassidy?"

"I'm going to see if they've got some sort of dark chocolate without the dairy," she said.

"Right," Jack said. "Dark chocolate? Isn't that some kind of aphrodisiac? What kinda shopping outing are you really taking me on?"

"If you saw what dairy does to him lately you wouldn't be making those kinds of comments."

"That's not what I hear," Jack said.

Olivia gave him a look.

"Heard Jamin walked in on you. More than once. I won't get into how disturbing that is on numerous levels."

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow again. "It was only once."

"Not what he says," Jack gave her a glance.

She exhaled and shook her head, catching his eye. "It was once," she said firmly.

Though she knew the 'more than once' was likely a reference to Benji coming downstairs while they were kissing on the couch – at the point where it was a bit more than kissing, and if he hadn't come down they likely would've been moving upstairs very shortly. But they hadn't gotten that far – because lover time ended and parenting time started again. Just like most nights.

Still she kept Jack's eye. "And it was as much his fault as it was our mishap."

Jack cast her a look. "Maybe you should try locking the door or at least keeping it down so they don't have to listen to it."

She made a little sound at that. "Jack, if the kids hear anything – they aren't hearing much. We are aware there are sleeping children in the house – and shockingly, we really don't want to wake them or be walked in on either. I am very certain – because we have talked to Benji about it – that he did not see, or hear much. And if he did – the tiny, fully cover glimpse in the dark he might've caught, would've been of two parents who care about each other very much and who are still attracted to each other. Nothing horribly scarring or disgusting. We didn't treat it that way with him. He didn't react that way in the moment – or since. And if he brings it up with you again – you really need to keep your hang-ups about sex and relationships out of it. Tell us and we'll make sure we check-in with him again to make sure he's OK with what happened."

"It shouldn't have happened," Jack said.

She gave him a look. "And yet it did, Jack. And, you know what, for a lot of families – at some point in most people's childhoods it does at some point in some way. You know how both those kids are about closed doors and locked doors. Just like they both know they are supposed to knock when we do actually close the door. Yes, we've had mishaps lately, Jack. Yes, Benji's had some nights where he really hasn't been feeling well or he's been more than a little scared and he's not been thinking about rules or Mom and Dad's privacy when he's seen a closed door. But he also hasn't come remotely close to seeing anything that will have scarred him for life. And, despite what he has walked in on, the way we've dealt with the situation – we've had a little boy who still wants to immediately hug us or be held by us or crawl right into bed with us or have us lay with him until he's sleeping again. So … I don't know, Jack. What does that say? Are we doing something right? Or are we doing something wrong? Or at this point, is it really just none of your business maybe …?"

He gazed at her. "He brought it up," he said. "Not me. I'm just letting you know."

"Well, thank you, Jack," she said. "I'm thrilled you're being kept abreast of the fact that, yes, I still have sex on occasion."

"Way Jamin tells it it's more than on occasion," Jack said.

She shook her head and shrugged. "You're right, Jack. Brian and I – shockingly – have sex more than on occasion."

"That is kinda shocking …," Jack tried. She knew he'd tried to have some mocking sarcasm to it. But it didn't work and she just gave him a look. "I sort of thought you guys might be on the rocks for a while …"

"I really don't think this is a topic you actually want to talk about. And it's really not a topic I want to get into with you," Olivia said.

"OK …," Jack allowed and cast her some side-eye. "I just meant that … things seemed kinda tense for a while. Ben and Em sorta said you were fighting a lot. Or something. Reading between the lines it sounded like you were fighting. And then all of a sudden you guys asked me to do week-night sitting. Like three times. And then now it's like you're suddenly … fine. Or … I don't know. Now I get told about Jamin seeing you guys basically dry humping on the couch."

Olivia gave him a disgusted look and shook her head. "I was going to respond to part of that until you went and said that, Jack. That's … " she just shook her head. She didn't even know what to say to him. "You really think that's an appropriate thing to say to me?"

He shrugged. "I just meant … I can tell stuff is going on with you guys. And no one really tells me what."

She kept his eyes. "And you tell me what's going on with your relationships or sex life, Jack? With this girlfriend I'm not supposed to know about?"

She caught some daggers for that comment. "Brian has a big mouth."

"Actually, he doesn't," she said. "All I got told is that you're seeing someone. But that's still more than you can apparently bring yourself to tell me."

"Because maybe it's really just none of your business," he mouthed right back at her in the same line she'd just used on him.

She shrugged. "I can accept that. But it does make me wonder why I'm not allowed to know you're dating again and if it's actually graduated to 'seeing someone' why I'm not allowed to know anything about it or her."

He gave her a look. "And that right there is why. Why am I not allowed to know you guys are – or were - seeing a shrink? Or therapist or whatever it is? … or was?"

She sighed at him and shook her head. "Jack …"

"Olivia," he pressed at her. "I just … you'll make it into a thing. Or you'll bring up all kinds of shit about Christina and how that went. Or spout off all kinds of shit about me and how fucked in the head I am about relationships and women. And you'll say it in a really nice, supportive, pep talk way that will still make me feel like absolute shit. So I just don't want to get into it."

She stared at him. "Is that really the way I make you feel?"

He sighed at her and just kept walking.

"Jack," she managed to get out. "That's not the way I mean to make you feel. I don't feel like what happened between you and Christina was your fault and I also—"

He glared at her. "Only it was my fault. Because I wasn't the kind of guy she wanted or needed. And I was the kind of guy who still was completely pathetic and still flying to fucking Chicago every month even though I knew she was fucking around on me because apparently … I'm that shit in bed and that shit as a boyfriend and that shit at relationships and women."

"Jack … I don't think that's the way you should look at it," she sighed. "That's not the way I want you to look at it."

"You told me to cut my losses. To stop going out there. I didn't. Even after I knew she was seeing someone else."

"She was your first love," Olivia tried. "It just took you a while to … accept it was over. She played a role in that too, Jack. She … she had trouble letting go too and strung you along … kept you on the side … for longer than she should've. Because I think she just didn't know how to handle the whole situation either. Because she knew you and did care about you, Jack. She didn't want to hurt you. She was … trying not to … poorly … Christina just made some poor choices about how to handle it. So did you. And … it was a hard situation, sweetheart."

"OK," Jack muttered. "And now … great … I'm getting the 'sweetheart' line. And we're fucking talking about Christina again. And I'm not seeing Christina anymore. I haven't talked to her in … almost a year. And I really don't want to think about her – or any of that – while I'm trying to figure out a relationship – when I apparently don't know how to be in relationships."

Olivia gazed at him. "Does this girl … woman … does she feel like you don't know how to be in a relationship with her?"

Jack made a noise and shook his head. "She's likely even more fucked up about relationships than me. So clearly, this is a match made in Heaven that's going to end in complete fucking disaster. Which is why I don't want to talk about it with you. Or have your advice or hear your opinions."

She gazed at him again. "And if you really feel right now that this is going to end in a complete disaster do you need to hear any opinions other than that gut feeling you're having?"

He gave her a look. "My gut feeling is that I don't care if this turns into a real relationship – because right now … fucking grocery shopping, scrubbing the toilet, watching these fucking boring documentaries with her … it's better. That we can talk about everything and nothing and it all feels the same. She's my friend. Lately … she's my best friend."

Olivia gave him a look. She studied him. "OK …," she allowed. Though, she clocked the 'turns into a real relationship'. She clocked the 'friend' word choice.

Jack scuffed his feet against the pavement again. "Brian's your best friend. Right?"

"He is," she allowed.

"When'd you know that? Like how long had you known him?"

"Ah …," Olivia allowed and paced next to him. Their walk had slowed. It was at a crawl now – almost like they were hardly moving. "I don't know, sweetheart. That's a hard question. It was something that evolved over time. Just closeness and shared experiences and happy memories … good times despite the bad … there reached a point where you … I … just realized I'd shared a lot of my life with this person."

"But you guys are so … different …" Jack almost whispered.

Olivia shrugged a bit. "We are and we aren't. I like to think we balance each other out."

Jack made a quiet little amused sound at that. She wasn't sure if it was agreement or disagreement.

"I feel like … _I have_ … known her a long time. And I like that."

"You have known her a long time?" Olivia pressed a bit.

Jack cast her a little look. "Please, don't," he said.

She paced forward pressing a strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't want to verbally say to Jack that it never seemed like he had many friends. But it didn't. There were only a handful of people she'd ever met who were in his life outside their family. And they were more acquaintances and co-workers and colleagues than friends. Though, she knew what that was like. She knew Brian did too.

"Do you know her from school?" she tried.

"No," he said.

"Skateboarding? The skate shop? Sparrow?" she asked – maybe a little too hopefully, because he gave her another pleading look to stop. She stared at her feet.

So maybe Sparrow? She'd always kind of liked that girl behind the counter at Gecko's. She wasn't thrilled with her multi-colored hair, lip ring and nose ring. But she was a nice girl and well-spoken and she was always teasing Jack when Olivia was in there. They seemed to have a lot in common and a calm, almost flirtatious banter. Despite Jack having been with Christina for so long. But this girl – Sparrow – she might be an easy transition for a rebound relationship. Maybe too easy.

"I feel like we're real different a lot too, though," Jack said. So maybe not Sparrow? "And sometimes I like that but sometimes it makes me feel like … shit just won't work."

"You're still young, Jack," Olivia offered. "You don't have to be going into a relationship looking for 'the one'. That's a lot of pressure."

"I know," he muttered. "I feel like … I did too much of that with Christina. Way too much pressure. And just … it made things so imbalanced from the get. Like … fuck … there was so much imbalance there. So much that … I don't know … I just wasn't comfortable with and didn't know how to deal with."

"Because when relationships get real, Jack, they get complicated. Right now, it sounds like … you're having fun with this girl. So … you're allowed to just enjoy that for a while."

"It's been a while …" Jack said.

She gazed at him. "Has it?"

He just shrugged. She didn't get an answer. But Olivia knew it'd been a while. She could make an educated guess. And she'd place it around Christmas. Maybe longer if they were 'friends' for a long time.

"I feel pulled in all kinds of directions right now," he muttered. "Especially like … I don't know. Weekends, this weekend – with a holiday. It's like … I want to see the kids and you but I also want to spend time with her. And then I know you think I'm a lazy ass, but Mom, seriously? I work Gecko's. I teach classes. I'm working on my thesis and going to school. And volunteering on community advisor boards for kids and park development and space usage. It's not like I'm … " he made a little noise.

Olivia squeezed his elbow a bit and he gave her a look. "We don't think you're lazy, Jack. We know you're busy. We just want you to be … to start … living your adult life."

"I'm trying," he said. "It's just … there's only so many hours in the day. And week. And weekend. Some nights I'm hardly sleeping to try to … get everything done, be everything to everyone."

"That's not good, Jack."

"But it's what I've got to do."

"Well, Jack … I know I'm not supposed to know about your girlfriend and you don't want me to have opinions on your girlfriend or relationship … but you know that this girl … woman … is welcome to come over to the house with you, if that makes things easier."

He sighed and looked at her. "Mom, it won't. Introducing family is like … deep end shit. It's serious. And it's not just you meeting her. It's … Jamin and Ducky getting involved with it too."

She allowed a sad little nod. "I understand," she said.

Jack gave a slow exhale. "I don't know. Maybe … like just you can meet her … us … for a coffee or something. Maybe."

"I'd like that," Olivia said.

Jack nodded a bit. "It's just like she gets some of my baggage. I get some of her baggage. And she doesn't fucking hound me about it or make it weird. I don't want to make it weirder. Family just makes it start to get seriously weird."

"Baggage is a pretty loaded term, Jack …," she said. "It worries me when you're using terms like that and then you're telling me your gut says the end-game of this is emotional disaster."

He gave her a look. "I know … but it's like, right now … just figuring it out, doing our own thing, at our own pace, our own way … that's fine. It's working fine."

Olivia examined him. "Is she still in school too?"

"Don't," he said giving her a firmer look.

"What's she do?"

He shook his head at her.

Olivia exhaled a bit. "How long have you been 'seeing' her?"

Jack shrugged. "That would mean putting some kind of definition or constraint on what we've got going on. Or when we were this or that or the other thing. So I don't know."

"OK …," she allowed.

He gave her a look. "How long have you been seeing Brian?"

"OK …," she conceded. "Point taken."

He got quiet. They did. And they walked for a bit. "Can I ask something that … I feel weird asking … and you don't have to answer …"

"You can ask …," Olivia allowed.

"After … what happened … how long did it take you to figure out how to be … normal?"

Olivia gazed at him and rubbed her eyebrow. "Are you asking that because of your relationship with Christina or because of something to do with your uncle?"

"That's not really an answer to my question …," Jack said.

Olivia exhaled and gazed at him. "I'm still not normal, Jack," she said. "I think … all of us know that. I just … I've really worked at adjusting to and coping with my new reality. Some days it's harder than others."

"But you still figured out how to have a relationship."

"Yes," she allowed. "And that goes back to … Brian being someone who's been in my life a long time. Who's been there for me. And for all the faults he has and for all the ways we aren't a like or don't seem to work – he has brought me, and my life and this family, a lot of stability. So … that makes me love him. It makes me … us … keep working at making it work."

Jack scuffed his feet and stared at them. Olivia stared at him.

"That wasn't what you were asking," she stated flatly.

He just shrugged. "We've been together a while," he said. "I know we aren't in friend territory. But we aren't having sex. We're hardly fooling around …"

Olivia clocked that. "Sweetheart … it sounds like you're seeing a lot of red flags about this relationship – or potential relationship."

And he shrugged again and stared at his feet. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe it's like you've said – I don't know much about relationships."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "Is the delay in relationship taking its next step coming from you or her?" she asked carefully.

She got another little shrug. And she nodded.

"OK … Can I ask if you're the one who's wanting to take it slow – is that coming out of your relationship with Christina? Or is it coming out of something that happened between you and your uncle?"

Jack made a quiet noise and still didn't look at her. "You know … I felt a lot of pressure with Christina. I don't even know how to explain it. But … it was like … she was way more experienced than me and wanted to move faster than me. But I also was OK with that because I was trying to prove something to myself. But … I don't know. There was a lot going on there. I don't really want to revisit it. And what's going on now it feels … it's different. But I still don't know how to operate in it."

Olivia exhaled a bit and stared at her feet briefly as they walked. "I really don't know how much – or what – I can say that would be helpful there, Jack. It would likely be something better for you to maybe deconstruct and talk through a bit with your therapist. Or maybe another man? You know … Brian is there for you."

"I don't want to talk to Brian about it," he said and gave her a glance. "Mom, I told you. I can read. And hear. I might be reading between the lines and listening to whispered hearsay but … I've got some ideas about what might be going on …"

She just kept his eyes. "Then you should have some idea that he might have … advice or thoughts that's more relatable to you than me."

"I don't know," he muttered. "It's more complicated than saying it's just my fucked up relationship with Christina or an asshole creepy uncle."

"Relationships – especially when they reach the point that sex and all the emotions and baggage and physicality there are involved – tend to get complicated," she provided.

"Then how do you do it?" he asked. "How … long was it … after it happened that you …?"

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow. "I don't know I'm comfortable talking about this with you, Jack."

"OK …," he allowed mutely.

And she slowly exhaled. "I will say that Brian and I … a lot of mutual respect, patience, love and open communication about boundaries has helped a lot. But it's still something we have to deal with … a lot, Jack. All the time. Almost every time – in some way. And sometimes it doesn't work. Still."

"But you're still together," Jack said.

She nodded and allowed a little smile. "He's the love of my life, Jack. He is my best friend. I can't imagine … working through … what we've worked through … with someone who I didn't see and trust and respect as my best friend. And, I'll also say that it's not fair that … you're so young and you're having to learn how to navigate all that while you're also learning how to navigate relationships. But … I do hope that it means … eventually … you're going to find someone who has all that respect and love and care for you and your boundaries too. They really will be your best friend for that to work the way it's supposed to – or needs to."

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Next chapter will either be Liv and the family or Jack and the girlfriend reveal. **

**After those I've got two more chapters planned in this timeframe and then that's it.**


	37. Mismanaged

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia heard the television going as she came into the house. But even though she knew the quiet alarm alerting that the door had been open would've beeped – and the door opening and closing itself had likely been heard – there was no greeting called out at her. She silently hoped that maybe that meant that Brian had fallen asleep in front of the TV – but it was still a little early for that to have ever happened. So she knew it was more likely that one of the kids had been up and he was upstairs trying to get them to settle again – having left the TV on as he went for what could range from a few minutes to a few hours to the rest of the night.

But as she finished hanging up her coat and stepped through the vestibule and into the living quarters of their home, she saw the real nature of the situation. Brian was still on the couch with the TV on – but Emily was passed out on top of him. In typical Emmy form. A square pillow on Brian's knees. Their daughter's head near face-planted into it and her knees pulled up under her – her ass stuck up in the air with her PJ top riding down her back and her PJ bottoms riding down revealing the crack of dawn that with Emmy in their life – they seemed to get to see every single day in every single way. Sleeping in was no in her vocabulary. But it wasn't in Daddy's either so it usually worked out.

It made Olivia smile, though. It was so their Little Duck. Ever since she was a baby she'd resisted naps. It was this weird balance of absolutely hating them and yet when she did fall asleep she could fall asleep anywhere in near any position. Usually because she fought off sleep until she did exactly the kind of face plant she was in. They had more than a few photos of her passed out in her high chair and at the dining room table with her face planted against her plate. Pasta sauce everywhere. Others like this pose where she nearly – finally – fell asleep mid-crawl while she was playing. Just downward dog in the middle of the living room next to whatever toy she'd been dragging around the floor. There was a humour to it. But there was also a sadness. Hints of what being in the system – in foster care and a children's home even as an infant for those first eight, nine months of her life – had done to their child. Coping mechanisms and insecurities ingrained in them from birth. Habits and temperaments all mixed together to make up this beautiful, flawed little person that was theirs.

That was just Emmy. Their little girl. But it was also a strong sign that Brian was having a bit of a night with them. A stronger sign that he was still in his shirt and tie at that time of night and had a beer in hand while he stared at the TV screen. A nature documentary. The latest and greatest one that the kids were transfixed by. The one that had only been available for less than a month – and she was pretty sure they'd worked through it at least three times already.

Brian gave her a little glance, scrubbing at his tired face. And she gave him a thin smile, trudging over too. Olivia leaned in, meeting him for brief pecks against their mutual cheeks, more the feeling of the touching of the skin on their faces – his soft but stubbly with his five o'clock shadow and that short beard that was little more than scruff he'd settled sporting lately but that she liked on him. There was a quiet refinement and maturity to it while still highlighting the boyish good looks that Brian had … in the right light. Or maybe more in her mind's eye. The way she still always saw him even when she was sitting with the man who was pushing 50 just like her.

She settled onto the couch, next to Emmy, tucking her own legs under her. Brian and her shared a little smile about the latest sleeping position of their daughter.

"At least her feet aren't in your face," Olivia said quietly. "Or ribs. Or armpit."

He made a little sound, as he took a swig out of his beer. "Give it time," he said and nodded his chin in the direction of the stairs. "Ben's passed out in our bed."

"Mmm …," she allowed. "Going to be that kind of night …"

Not exactly a surprise. It'd been that kind of night more nights than not for the past … six weeks. They were getting to the point that they might have to resort to trying to wedge a king-sized mattress into their New York-sized master suite. Growing kids with all kinds of anxieties piling into Mommy and Daddy's bed almost nightly lately wasn't doing much of anything for anyone's sleep or temperament. Especially not Mommy and Daddy with sharp little heels and elbows ramming into them and feet kicking them in all kinds of uncomfortable places. Getting comfort and security from their parents might be helping Benji and Emmy settle at night – but it wasn't helping her and Brian. It'd meant that they'd eventually got up most nights and spent part of it down here. Or one of them – usually her – would end up catching a few uncomfortable winks on Emmy's bottom bunk. Twin-sized 'big girl' beds were not made for middle-aged, adult woman bodies and backs.

"Gave Cap and Eileen a real run for their money," Brian said. "Don't know they'll be volunteering bedtime babysitting hours again for a while."

Olivia allowed a weak smile at that and reached to tug down the back of Emmy's shirt and to try to tug up the back of her riding down bottoms. Her positioning only made it work so well, so instead she reached and drew down the blanket from behind her head and draped it over their little girl, tucking it in around her heaped body.

"Wouldn't go down for them?" Olivia asked – but stated the obvious.

"Determined to stay up until we were both home," he provided.

Olivia made a sound and gave a little eye roll. That was the usual too. But she again knew where that came from. Past scares and a whole lot of abandonment issues. It was hard to leave their kids alone – with a changed schedule and routine – for any length of time. It never went particularly well. About the only people they could really get away with doing it with were Jack and Janet. The Captain and Eileen – as familiar and as loved as they were – were still enough of a shift in the routine that it always took a while. It was like this every summer. By the fall the kids would be comfortable with being left hours – or overnights – with them again. But that would be just in time for them to play Snowbird again and then so would begin the cycle once again.

"How long have you been home?" Olivia asked.

Brian twisted his arm to stare at his watch and he shrugged. "Almost an hour."

She allowed a little nod at that. And gave him a thin smile, reaching and touching at that scruffy cheek. He had it the perfect length right now. It was so soft and downy. She loved the feel of it. Even though there were all kinds of salt-and-pepper – it added to the maturity in him she'd watched over the years. Brian had a quiet dignity to him – even in his more undignified moments. Handsome in his grizzled.

"It sounded like you were having a rough day?" she said.

He made a little sound and took another tug of his beer, lulling his head back on the couch and staring at the swimming narwhals – waiting for their crack in the ice. (They'd seen this episode more than three times – obviously. This one might as well be on never-ending repeat). But then his head lulled back toward her.

"Sometimes this gig," he shook his head at her. "If being a cop in New York City doesn't jade you about any notion of justice, this gig … our 'justice system'. All fucking politics …"

"I hear you …," she allowed and rested her elbow on the back of the couch, propping her head against it and staring at him.

Brian took another swig of his beer. "Just a shit storm from all sides today. Tornado. Those files I had to hand off to Lindsay – Chicago – to get cleaned up. Hitting the fan right now. Had her on the line."

"Yea?" she allowed and played a bit with the hair on the back of his next, while her eyes moved between his tired eyes, their sleeping little girl who slept anywhere and through anything when she finally just slept, and the narwhals making their move on the screen.

"She's gonna be in town next week," he muttered. She gave him a bit of a look at that. "I don't know what the protocol is. If you wanna invite her over for dinner or something."

"She's coming all the way here to drop them off?" Olivia said.

Brian shrugged. "You know, I'd prefer that to FedEx'ing that shit anyway. Get the debrief from the horse's mouth too rather than a talking head on the screen."

Olivia made a sound of acknowledgement. "Or she's giving you face time to finally give you here notice …"

Brian made a soft, quiet but rather annoyed sound at that. "Yea, she better fucking get around to that while she's here. Of course I can't say that to her. That's an HR nightmare. Male supervisor telling his female underling – on maternity leave hold – that she should really shit or get off the pot."

Olivia stroked at his hair a bit more. "I had to tell Rollins," she said.

"You broaching that topic with a female employee versus me broaching it – different things."

"Has she found a position back in Chicago yet?" Olivia asked.

"Don't know," Brian said. "Steer clear of our personal lives."

"Well, she's going to have to give a glimpse," Olivia said. "Wasn't it Easter she left? So it must be almost a year that her position has been on maternity hold?"

Brian took another swig. "Yea. I think she's got like three weeks left to let HR know what the hell she's doing. And then we'll go through that limbo period while they recruit and hire. When we're fucking drowning right now."

"I'm sure you can just keep Geharty on her desk for now …"

Brian gave her a look. "That guy was ready to bail from about two weeks in. He's been clinging on in hope he ends up … somewhere better. Like there's such a thing. Define 'better'."

Olivia gave him a frown. And she didn't get into all the politics and news stories hitting the headlines and news wires lately about the Investigators' Office. It was sort of a moot point. It was a big organization with lots of different units and officials - and levels of corruption and laziness. Same as any other cop shop. Same as the NYPD. Brian was right - there wasn't 'better'. Or there was. It just depended on your morals and your definition.

"If she's coming all the way here with the files – and she took on the work while still on leave – maybe she is thinking about coming back," she offered.

Brian gave her a look. "With her family situation?" he shook his head. "She likely is just taking a baby break. And getting whatever shit she has left in storage out this way."

Olivia allowed a thin smile and again groomed at his short hair on the back of his neck. "Is she leaving the babies in Chicago with their dad?"

Brian shrugged. "Didn't get into that either."

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed. "Be nice to see them. Her and Halstead likely made some pretty cute babies."

Brian gestured at Emmy – or her ass in the air. "What? We didn't come up with a cute baby enough for you?"

Olivia smiled and leaned in again to brush a peck against his lips. He kept her eyes as she settled back into the couch again.

"You OK?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Just that comment," she sighed. "Baby talk. Amanda …"

"Sticking her foot in her mouth and her nose where it don't belong?"

Olivia shrugged. "I likely stuck my nose where it didn't belong during her pregnancy. And something came up the other day. It just ..." it was bothering her but she hadn't wanted to bring it up. She still didn't. But he'd caught her change of demeanor. He was getting good at that. Too good - because they'd been together too long. "She felt I implied I'd had an abortion ... in a previous conversation, and then now … I didn't want to course correct or get into it with her," she muttered and gestured at Emmy. "The miscarriage."

Brian stared at her and found her hand. "That's not her business."

Olivia shrugged. "Her thought process on baby number two wasn't my business and I put my opinion out there. I made a comment about regret."

"Loss is different kind of regret," Brian said.

She gave him a weak smile. "I know."

"It's complicated," he said. "That was a really complicated situation. Moment in our life, relationship."

"I told her that too - that it's complicated - when she … stormed off."

Brian breathed deeply. "She doesn't need to know the dynamics — the history — of our relationship or family, kids, Liv. I don't want her to. It's personal. That was … a fucked up enough period for us. We don't need …"

"I know. Just … " she gestured in a minor collision of the topics that had come before. "It made me think of it. She'll get over it."

He stared at her, though. "Do you need to talk about it? The miscarriage?"

She made a little sound — that she knew might've been wounded. But she shook her head. "No."

His eyes stayed on her — examined her. "Do you need to talk about … us … then?"

She offered him a weak smile for that effort. "No," she said. "Like you said, we ended up with our cute baby. The baby meant for us. Babies meant for us."

"I think so," Brian said.

Olivia nodded — though it felt a little weak. "I know so."

His eyes stayed on her — to the point that Olivia couldn't stay with them and she went back to straightening the stray strands of Emmy's hair. The little girl who joined their family in such a complicated and convoluted — and initially resisted — way. But was still there — and still so much theirs — now. Six years was so long and so little in the long run. A reminder of what they'd all overcoming in becoming a family. But also a reminder of another dark spot that her and Brian had gone through. More than one.

"Is this actually 'no'," he said flatly, "or are we doing 'don't ask, don't tell'?"

She exhaled. Sometimes she hated how much she'd let him in - let him figure her out, know her. "There's lots of topics you want to play don't ask, don't tell with lately too, Brian."

"And we're supposed to be working on that," he said.

She gave him a look. "Do you really want to play Truth tonight?"

He eyed her and took a slow drag out of his bottle. That was answer enough. "Speaking of playing 20 Questions and dispersing opinions people don't want to hear," Brian said, earning a glimpse from her. "Stayed out longer with Jack than I thought you would."

"Mmm …," she exhaled again and ran her hand through her hair to find the side of her head and stare at him. "He was more chatty and open to chatting than I thought he'd be."

"Yea?" Brian asked. But Olivia only shrugged. He examined her and then handed her his bottle. She gave him a thin smile at that but took a sip. The bottle was starting to get warm and the lip of it definitely was from the frequent sips Brian was taking out of it. His breath and saliva still lingering against the glass. "Good chat or Jack Ass talk?"

She smiled a bit and shrugged. "A bit of both," she said. "There was snark. And more attitude than was necessary about Easter plans."

Brian rolled his eyes at that and took another drink from the bottle. Jack and snark might as well be a drinking game.

"And he acted starving - both worrying about what we might feeding him on Sunday, or where he'd get fed if we aren't around, and what we were going to eat tonight," she said.

"Where'd you end up eating?"

"Fat Bastard's."

"Of course," Brian muttered. "Why get some decent Mexican when you can eat a two-pound burrito."

"He just likes saying it," Olivia said. "To gauge my reaction."

"Because it's worth reacting over," Brian shook his head. "Jack Ass." But he looked at her, "You find anything edible there this time?"

She shrugged. "I just had a salad."

He examined her. "Eileen did up a cacciatore for the kids. They put a good dent in it, but-"

Olivia gave him a little nudge. "They did or you did?"

Another tug out of that bottle. "I might've helped out when I got home. But there's still a good serving in the fridge. Want me to nuke a plate for you?"

Olivia rubbed at their Ducky's back and shook her head. Brian moving would mean ending all this. And she really wasn't that hungry any way. She'd got enough even if it wouldn't have been her choice dining option. With Jack, though, she knew it never was going to be.

"He's stressing about a lot," she said. "Benji, finishing his thesis, his jobs now with Gecko's now, finding a job. Making any kind of decision. This design submission for the CAC. He says he feels pulled in too many directions."

"Yea, well, welcome to adulthood, Kiddo" Brian said.

Olivia played her fingers through the back of his hair. She wasn't going to argue that. It was just life.

"The spot he's doing the design for look decent?" Brian asked, casting her a glance.

"Yes," Olivia said, taking another, longer swig but then handing the bottle back across to him. He immediately took another drink of his own. "It's a really nice space. Bigger than I remembered."

"He know what he's going to do with it?" Brian asked.

She shrugged. "Focus on play, he said. An interactive urban playground designed for adults. I think he means for Millennials."

Brian made another little noise at that and took another drink, giving his head a shake.

"He didn't want to talk about it that much," she said. "Because apparently I'm making too big of deal out of it when it's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal," Brian muttered.

"I know," she agreed quietly and stared at the television screen for a long beat. "I don't remember my twenties being as hard or as confusing as he makes them out to be."

Brian's head made another little shake, as he tipped back the beer. "Either of these two as lost at twenty-five as he is," he shook his head again, nodding back at the stairs and up to Ben. "My foot will be so far up their asshole there won't be room for them to get their head shoved up in there as far as Jack does. Wearing a fucking ass-hat …"

Olivia sighed a bit and stroked at his head with one hand, while the other played with the strands of Emmy's messy, tangle of hair. She knew that wouldn't exactly be the way it worked. Not with Benji and not with Emmy. It didn't even work that way with Jack now. Both of their barks were way worse than their bites when it came to their kids. None of them were remotely scared of them. And Benji and Emmy both knew exactly how to spin either of them to get what they wanted. They were right around their little fingers. It was going to be a challenge as they got older. It was challenging enough now. And Jack was only proving so much of a practice run. If anything - it was a workshop effort that scared her about their little ones' teens and twenties - when her and Brian were in their sixties. It was a scary thought.

"I think you're going to have to try to find some time for him," she said. And he caught her eyes, staying with them. She rubbed her eyebrow. "He touched on some topics that I think he'd do better talking to you about. That maybe he'd listen a bit more."

"Babe, I'm the last person he wants to hear about his education from," Brian said. "He still thinks I'm some uneducated goon."

She shook her head at him. "He doesn't," she said. "And, you aren't, Bri."

You didn't become a detective before you're 30 - before you'd put in ten years on the job by being stupid. You didn't get given the kind of undercover assignments and responsibilities Brian had by being an unintelligent man. You didn't end up heading up investigations - having a unit, employees, a team of your own to manage - without being in the know and good at your job. Olivia knew that. And she believed it. But Brian hated her laying that out to him. His smarts were just different than ... people like Jack or Amanda or Carisi. But she knew he was smart - educated - she'd seen some of his essays and tests and straight A report cards that Janet had held onto from high school. He might've only done community college and a junior degree - but he had a degree. He'd done courses and upgrades and exams on the job since. Even with his missteps along the way - Brian's career had a stellar trajectory. He was in a position - in his late-40s - that would make a lot of cops looking to move out beyond the NYPD in their 50s and 60s jealous. She respected his brains - and his street smarts and his detective, police and investigator skills - even if he wanted to put on the mask that he was some dumb Mick. Even if he'd built his life pretending he was just one of the guys and some macho, Type A personality, brutal, street brawling cop. He wasn't. They both knew it. The man was watching David Attenborough-narrated documentary about arctic wildlife and climate change as an evening spool down viewing. He might gravitate toward the sports section and magazines - but Brian just always ended up buried in the paper or newsmagazines if they were in doctors' waiting rooms or diners. And he was undisputedly better at Fifth Grade math than her. The man was far, far, far from stupid. And there was even less of an argument that he was uneducated. He was just a different sort of smarts - and they presented in a different way. But he didn't like hearing that from her or anyone else.

"Yea, well, whatever I say right now he just hears 'get a job' and goes Jack Ass on me too," Brian muttered.

Olivia exhaled a bit and stared at their little girl until she shook her head until she looked at Brian. "My life looking like this," she said with a little gesture, "it's not something I could've even fathomed at twenty-five." Her hand pressed into her forehead as she stared at him and she took another deep breath and shrugged. "I was so career focused. Job focused."

"You're the job," Brian said.

She shook her head. "I'm a mom. But none of that even started to click until into my forties. And now … I love my life, Bri. As imperfect as it is and as fragile. But all of this, I couldn't have even imagined loving it or wanting it at twenty-five."

Brian shrugged a bit. "There's a difference between wanting a career and … whatever Jack's doing."

Olivia exhaled a bit. "He said things that made my …" and she just made her own little spidey sense sign up by her temple. "… go off."

"Like?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. This puddle of spew about this relationship he's in right now. And some allusions about … aspects of his relationship with Christina. Too fast, too serious, too much pressure. How it ended. And then some things about his uncle."

Brian made a listening sound. And Olivia just pressed her heel of her hand into her temple more.

"He said outright he's been with this girl he's seeing for a while but it's not a sexual relationship yet," she said. "And I don't know … my hit on it … I'm not sure if it's she's taking it slow or he's taking it slow. But … I just worry that … he's never going to have a 'normal' relationship. That … I don't know … it's like this visual sign of just how lost he is … at life, Bri."

Brian scrubbed at his face a bit and looked at her. "Liv … the kid … he's just got a fucked up definition of sex and relationships. Even if we take out whatever that asshole did or didn't do to him – he didn't grow up in a normal home. Those dynamics. There's abuse, neglect, abandonment. You grow up in that kinda of environment – you know – it takes years to course correct that. And with Jack – Babe, he was eighteen years old when he started getting any kind of help. He's never really going to course correct. That's something you've – we've – got to learn to accept. And just live with."

She frowned at that. "He's got so much potential."

Brian shrugged. "Yea," he agreed. "And maybe we can help him course correct to use some of it – for his career. Maybe. But in life, in his relationships, his sex life or sexuality … we can't fix that for him, Liv. And it's not your fault. We just … be there as his family. You know?"

She frowned at that and brushed at his hair again – staring at him and not. "The way he was talking about Christina …"

Brian shrugged there too. "She was a nice girl but they were both out of each other's leagues in completely different ways."

She tried a thin smile but she really looked at him then. "Bri, I'm really sorry about how I handled things back then."

"You don't need to apologize to me about that," he said.

But she only frowned a bit more. "I should've handled it differently. I didn't handle it well." It was an understatement.

He just gazed at her. "Neither did I," he allowed and then shook his head. "Liv, we were both kids too. And it doesn't matter. It was a long time ago. If I'm being honest – I know I wouldn't have been able to handle you."

She gave him a mild look of disgust. "You know how to 'handle' me now?" she dripped with sarcasm.

He shrugged. "Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. But I know you - understand you - a lot better. And I know how to hold my own. I didn't then not at 27, 28, 29 years old with who I was and where I was at. You would've walked all over me. You did. And that's where Jack's at too. He doesn't know how to handle himself in a relationship yet. How to hold his own. What he wants or needs from a relationship."

"Who ever does ..." Olivia mumbled.

"We do," he said.

"Do we?" she put back to him.

Brian stared at her. "I do," he said. "Don't you?"

She exhaled. She did. But sometimes - lately, again - she wasn't sure either of them did. Not what they wanted or what they needed. Or how to get it. Though they both seemed to keep on trying. She knew that counted. For a lot. It was the hard work of relationships - and she knew too that was what Brian really meant. It's a hard concept to really understand in your twenties - especially growing up in a broken home where you didn't see how a functional, healthy relationship worked. Her and Brian were middle-aged and they were both still paying for that confusion and lack of model imaging to mirror. And they arguable both were better off in their childhood situations than Jack - again, depending on how you went about defining that.

"And what do you want and need from a relationship, Brian?" was all she put to him though. And that was a whole lot to put to him.

He kept her eyes. "I want this relationship," he said - almost immediately. "I want - need - you. The kids. My family. My friend. Semi-regular access to sex. Some emotional intimacy."

"You make it sound simple," Olivia said.

Brian shook his head. "We both know it's simple terms for sweeping, bare your soul shit."

"Which we aren't good at - even if we want it or need it," she said.

"We're getting better," he said, keeping her eyes. "I think." She allowed him a thin smile. He examined her for a long beat. "It's the roles, Liv. The responsibilities. The rights. The definitions and worth and value that comes from all that. The validation - but earning it and fighting for it. With you and with the kids. You know that, right? That's what you want ... what you need or are getting from it too?"

She gave him a little nod and a thin smile. "Yeah, Bri. I am. I do."

He stared at her again - weighing her. There was some flickers of insecurity painting across his face again. And Olivia tugged again on the short hair on the back of his head. She ran her nails there.

"I do, Brian," she pressed.

It took a long beat but then he spoke again. "Point being, that it is big, sweeping stuff that's hard to get - intimacy - at that age when you're that damaged and when you've got that little experience in relationships. Christina was out of Jack's league. Maybe whatever he's got himself into right now - it's the same thing. Just like you were out of my league."

"Bri …" she sighed at him.

But he just shrugged. "You were," he said. "And I knew it. Even then. It's likely why I was falling all over myself."

She sighed at him. "You were falling all over the sex, Brian …" she said.

He gazed at her. "There's truth to that. And if it'd been much more than sex you would've eaten me alive. If you'd be willing to let us try for something more. It would've ended in disaster."

"I still broke your heart," she said.

He gave a little shrug but kept her eyes. "A little but not as much if you'd let me try to have some kind of lie and you'd kept up the lie for a while. Way it happened, it was just the heart and ego bruised a bit."

"And you figuring out how to cope with your sexuality and the abuse hindered," she said.

He shook his head. "How I dealt with relationships, sex and my 30s isn't on you," he said. "Just like whatever Jack's doing right now - is not on us. And I'm OK with what happened. It happen differently, we'd probably really have held it against each other. Hated each other. Been stubborn-ass, ass-hats about it. And then this wouldn't have happened," he said and nodded at their daughter. "So I think things worked out."

But there was a creaked on the stairs and she strained her neck to look to see Benji coming down the stairs.

"Did we wake you up Little Fox?" she said.

He just yawned. "You're loud."

"Sorry," she allowed and watched as he came over.

Benji gazed at Emmy and at Brian but then gave her a long look and crawled onto the cushion next to her – leaning so heavily against her that he might as well have crawled directly into her lap. But Olivia just wrapped her arms around him and held onto him tight.

Benji stared bleary eyed at the TV. "Nar-whaaaaaaal," he mumbled through another yawn.

"Nar-whaaaaaal," Olivia whispered into his ear and pressed a kiss against his temple. He flopped his head more heavily against her shoulder and she brushed at his short hair now.

"What you talkin so loud 'bout?" he asked.

She smiled a little into the top of his head and eyed Brian. She knew they hadn't been talking very loud. "About how long I've known Daddy."

"Since big kids, young adults – like Peedg," Benji recited.

"Yep," she agreed.

"Fooooore-evvvv-er," Benji mumbled.

"Forever and a day," she agreed. And kept Brian's eye. "Just the way I like it."


	38. Hot Shot

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Brian rested his elbows on his knees staring through the glass of wall of the waiting room off into the treatment room. Off at Liv and Big Man. They'd gone another route after their first-time disaster and the waiting room meltdown that had ensued because of it that afternoon. So it'd been him in there with Ben while tears streamed down his face – griping his hand while the kid tensed his body so much that the nurse working on him had struggled to get the line into his arm. After they'd finally managed to brutalize his little arms enough that the needle was in and the plastic tubing was all taped down and those bags of poison that was supposed to fix him were hanging above him and starting their slow drip it – him and Liv had switched out.

Ben didn't like his Ma seeing him cry. Brian didn't really know why. He sort of hoped it hadn't been him who'd taught that to the kid in some way. He was thinking it was more an age-and-stage development that likely grew out of some sort of team bench or locker room talk in hockey or basketball. It was a fairly new development – but it'd come into big time play the last couple months with all these doctors appointments and tests and treatments and time in the hospital shit going on. Whole lot of triggers and fear and anxiety in a little boy. Ten wasn't grown up. It wasn't a teen. Brian would argue in his kiddo – their kiddo – it could barely even be defined as a pre-teen. It had maybe been on the cusp of that for Ben. But all this – it'd just brought out the scared little boy. And fucking rightfully so. He was a fucking grown man and he was feeling a little scared and lost in all this. So was Liv.

And maybe that was part of the "Mom can't see me crying" thing. Because if Liv saw one of the kids going through this kind of shit – she welled up. Big Man knew it was upsetting and hurting his mom too. He didn't want that for her. Because he was a good son. A Big Man despite still being a little kid. But the "Mom can't see me cry" policy meant that Big Man was testing Brian's limits too. When your kid's that upset and that scared and you've got doctors and nurses coming at them from all angles like this while shoving shit into their little bodies or shoving them into some other kind of alien imaging machine – it sort of more than upset you too. He'd had his own eyes well up as he tried to calm his kid down and keep him still. To try not to lie to him when he was having to tell Ben it would be OK.

Brian had had other moments – in private – with Liv where he'd just lost it. The timing of all this was bad. But the timing of life was just fucking bad. He was pretty low on his emotional resources as it was. And now this with Ben? He'd had some of his own waterworks.

And Brian reaching tears – that set Liv off. He didn't even have to reach them. Just had to start with the eyes that were watering and then hers would start too. And from there … just eventually reached a fucking waterfall. So there'd been a couple nights where they'd just been a fucking mess.

Nothing makes you feel quite as helpless – in ways you can't even imagine or begin to describe until it happens to you – as your kid being sick with a disease that there's near fuck-all you can do anything about. And the options that exist aren't really options and only do so much. It makes you feel like this failure. As a provider and protector. As a father and man. And it just made him fucking angry. What fucking lot he'd had in life and Liv and now these kids. Their kids. These kids they set out to raise and to give them a better life and an easier life. These kids that had already been through too fucking much before they were able to even call them their kids. And now life had just gone and layered this onto Ben. Onto their family. Onto Liv.

His mom had spouted at him about life hands you what you can handle. Yea, fuck that. Liv had been asked to handle more than her share. She'd taken on more than her share. She had more pain than anyone deserved to carry in one lifetime. It made his own shit feel little. And it made the added shit life had thrown at their little boy that much more un-fucking-fair.

Brian knew it could be worse. It could be so much fucking worse. They were in the fucking children's hospital. They were seeing all kinds of worse around them. But it didn't change the fact their kid was suffering. It didn't change all the question marks around his future now and what that'd look like or how long it'd extend. All the fucking things that could go wrong now. There'd been some real moments – low moments – where it just felt like all these hopes, dreams and possibilities you saw for your kid – your family – kinda disappeared. There was still this struggle to get a grip on it and to keep all of it in perspective. To figure out how to get that perspective.

Some perspective was that in some weird, fucked up way diagnosis happening in his moment had made him and Liv fucking closer. He knew there were all kinds of ways that they could've blown right apart after that trial – after his testimony, after his big reveal. Because he wasn't ready to deal with it in that way. Not with her and within their relationship. But this – Ben – it had just striped a ton of shit away. It'd made them be vulnerable together and ban together in a different way. The level of talk – the fucking physical intimacy in trying to drag each other through this while they got a grip on reality – it was next level shit. It was making them stronger. This was real. This was bonding. If there'd been any question about them or their family – right now – it wasn't there. They were there for each other. There for the kids. Full-stop. Different way than some of the epic bullshit they'd had to wade through before. Could only hide from any of it so much right now – because it wasn't about them. This was about the kids. When the kids were involved – it was different. Him and Liv might all out brawl and emotionally head-fuck each other. Shut each other out, play avoidance and don't ask, don't tell. But neither of them would ever, ever do anything to hurt Ben and Emily. Period. In sync there. So this – all of it - distraction and focus on getting through, it was also spurring these real fucking, bare your soul talks. It was exhausting. But it was like it was the only fucking buoyancy they had right now. Some life ring to cling onto.

But now it was his calm down period now. Here. Only it wasn't really all that calming to be locked out there in the waiting room staring in through the glass. It just made the separation and the isolation all that more real. And you were in this room with other parents who it was either their first time or they just couldn't calm their roll – and they were loitering against the glass windows. Then there were the other ones who seemed so … just fucking engaged in their phones or tablets or laptops or the shitty magazines in the room that you had to wonder why they'd even bothered to be there. What was the point of two of you being there if you were going to be like that during your kid's session?

Brian knew for him it was feeling like a fucking eternity waiting for the drip to finish. Or waiting for Liv to need a bathroom break or for Ben to decide he wanted to switch out. Only he wasn't likely going to. Because Ma was who he cuddled with when he was tired, sick or sucky. Always had been. He was his Mommy's Boy. Full stop. He had a really good – strong – relationship with Ben. But it'd always been clear that Ma came first. And she had. So made sense.

So right now – there Liv was, full-out dressed in the yellow paper robe over her clothes and Big Man, not looking anywhere near big, curled up in her lap in those shitty facsimiles of recliners. She'd mouthed at him earlier that she was going to need a bathroom break. Her and her fucking tea habit – diuretic. Or the caffeine. That went right through her. But whatever it was, Brian was pretty sure her window of opportunity had closed. The urge had passed or she was just holding it. Because he hadn't seen any movement out of Ben for a while. Was pretty sure he was passed out at that point.

"He asleep?" Brian mouthed at her when they caught eyes. Or he thought they had. For a second it seemed like they hadn't. But then hers found his and she smiled. She nodded but then she gestured to look behind him.

Brian glanced over his shoulder – expecting one of the pedi-rheumis or the social workers to be checking in on them. Likely dispensing more useless information in a pep talk that they should really get some training from Liv from on how to dispense. Though, a lot of days he felt like hers could use some work too. At least with the male gender.

He was really going to have to get her to work on that by the time Ben hit his teens or Big Man might start playing as much of a jackass as the Jack Ass could be. Though, if Ben were talking to her like that and Liv wasn't smacking him in his place on her own, Brian wouldn't stand back too long before stepping in and giving the kid a verbal smackdown. He just really hoped that those kinds of confrontations with his kid would end up being one-and-done. Make his point, move on.

He wanted him and Ben to keep on having a good relationship. Wanted to be a good dad. Wanted his boy to want to be his little buddy for … not just as long as possible. Really wanted it for life. That was the goal in all this too.

With both the kids. Em too. Even though his little worms and snails and puppy dog tails princess would only be "his" for so long. Daddy's little girls grow up – and presumably hate you – too. Hopefully that'd also be a short-lived phase. But if fire trucks, Transformers, Spider Man (and debatably rest of the Avengers) and narwhals were any indication on the length of phases with his kids – he was royally fucked on the likely length of the moody, asshole, hateful teen phase.

Sometimes he wondered if he was doing the whole dad thing too late in life. Because he saw how the dads – the ones that showed up, even the moms that showed up – at the kids' things were. Games and crafts and open house nights at the school. The library and Y and playground. He knew him and Liv weren't the first people to start their families in their forties. But it sure meant that a lot of the time they were interacting with people – and their parenting styles and sensibilities – that were like a decade younger than them. Sometimes it was really apparent that his – and Liv's – parenting sensibilities and opinions and methods didn't exactly match these 30-somethings they were having to mingle with at some of this stuff. They were a different generation and different mould.

Brian couldn't really decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It really depended on the day or the issue they were dealing with. He knew that even though he would've figured it out – there was a lot going on with the kids these days, with this shit with Ben – that he wouldn't have wanted to deal with it in his 30s, early-30s. He wasn't sure he would've quite been there yet to be able to really handle it the way any of it needed to be handled. Not in as adult way as he could now – a decade or two later. Even now – looking down the barrel at the 5-0 – there were moments as a grown-ass adult that he struggled to know just how the fuck to deal with any of it. At least him and Liv were in the age-range were the docs they had to deal with mostly treated them like grown-ass adults too. Most of the time. Depended there were different levels – and kinds – of helpful and asshole when dealing with medical professionals. About the same as anything else.

Figured, though, Liv's smile and nod suggested it wasn't one of the assholes that was behind him. But before he even focused his eyes on who was there, a hand smacked down on his shoulder and he looked up at who it belonged too and managed a smile too.

"Cassidy," John said. "What have I told you about the moody leering?"

Brian made a slightly amused noise at that, as John came around and settled into the chair beside him. "You mould your ass in these chairs long enough and your face will look about the same way," he said. "Actually might be an improvement for you, Johnny."

John made a sound and moved his ass around in the thin cushioned seating that was really trying to look as high-end and modern in their brand-spanking new wing. Didn't matter what position you took in them – your ass would still be numb in about twenty minutes and your lower back would be aching. Hence the hunch and the leery – Brian preferred gaze – into the treatment area. John looked in too.

"I can see why you're gawking," he put flatly. "Her outfit is fetching."

Brian allowed a more amused noise at that and cast him a look – a smile – shaking his head. "Careful, Johnny. Jack told her a couple weekends back that her shirt looked like we should be taking her to a nursing home or going to a bad luau. She's still hung up on it."

"Mmm …," he allowed. "But has said shirt since been hung up?"

"I don't know, man," Brian said. "Beyond a couple of the little black dresses, I only pay so much attention to the clothes when they're on her."

Munch gave him a look. "Such language about the patron saint of Manhattan's Special Victims Unit."

Brian allowed him that one too. "Meant when they're in the laundry. You know – because if I fuck up the load and the clothes – that's about the only way I'll see the clothes off her in a while."

"Mmm …," Munch allowed. "Very domestic of you, Brian. I knew you'd eventually get housebroken. But have you heard of dry cleaning?"

"You heard how much savings you've got to have put away for a college education these days, Munchie Munch? I don't got no dolla-bills left for dry cleaning."

"Sure you do," Munch raised his eyebrows, peering at him over the rims of his glasses. "Budget. We all pay for sex, my friend."

Brain shook his head. That was Johnny. He had his bits and he worked them on repeat. They had their set down. Same conversations – little jokes and jibs and jabs over and over – for years. But some of it had taken a whole lot of different meanings and context over the years and years. Time and maturity. Age and stage. There was comfort to it, though. More that changed and all that.

"Not me," he said – feeding the usual line. The expected one. Though, it didn't work quite as well anymore.

'Not me' was the naïve comment of a twenty-eight year old kid without a whole lot of experience with women or relationships. 'Not me' wasn't the way it worked after you'd gone through a few more decades. John had a point. Sex – relationships – it's all a negotiation. Agreed on terms and conditions. Sometimes the payout sucked. But usually the investment was worth it. Clung to that. There was a price to it all – but it was worth it. The price and the worth was sitting right there in the treatment room. Not the sex – the rest of it. Having the semi-regular option of Liv rather than his own hand was just a pretty nice fringe benefit at the expense of everything else that he'd invested in here.

John gave him a look. "Still maintaining that twenty years later? A Brooklyn-size mortgage and two little rugrats calling you Daddy?"

See – John knew it was bullshit too. Brian smiled. "Living the dream, Johnny."

But that got a smile – briefly – out of Munch. It got another hand on his shoulder.

And then it got quiet. They stared into that treatment room. Ben's little body looking more like just a lump under the blankets on Liv's lap. The only clue he was there was the way she was tucking her chin down. He'd be against Ben's head, Brian knew. Liv had closed her eyes too at that point, though. She'd just be trying to tick through those endless minutes – hours – too.

"Appreciate you stopping by …," Brian said quiet like.

"Ah, well, you know, was in the area," John said – all casual and dismissive. That was John. Downplay, downplay, downplay. Like he'd just given up – when he hadn't. Clung on through all the hard knocks too. Through practiced – faked – disassociation. And it hung there for a long beat – 'cause they both knew the flippancy and sarcasm and jibs and jabs only betrayed the truths and highlighted the lies.

"How's he doing?" Munch finally asked.

Brian shrugged and forced himself to straighten in the chair. Crossing his arms over his chest. "Sleeping."

"No kidding, Yippie Skippie," Munch said. "How about in his waking hours?"

Brian exhaled a bit and shook his head. "I dunno, John. It sort of feels like he's doing better. Some days. More days I feel like he's just putting on a show – for us or to get us to stop dragging him into the doctors."

"Yeah, well, who can blame him for that," John said but glanced around the room they were in. "Though, they do put a lot of effort into disguising the toxin, torture chamber over here in the kiddie unit."

"Yea, sparkly," Brian said and made his own gesture at the space. All considering, though, it wasn't horrible. This could easily be a whole lot worse experience than it was. They were lucky that way. But he still had mixed feelings about how the Infusion Unit at the kid's hospital was trying to normalize all this shit for kids. He got the why. He understood why they needed to normalize it. But, fuck – it wasn't normal.

"The doctors able to tell you how he's doing yet?" Munch asked.

Brian shook his head and slouched in his chair. "Nah," he muttered. "They check out some of his counts like 10 days after the infusion. Some blood work the day before. But they aren't going to take a look at the disease activity again until we're three months in. Next few days after this will be rough, though. Least it was last time."

Munch made a listening sound and stared in too. "Cases with the kids – always the ones that get to you. Break you."

"Yea …"

Brian felt John's eyes on him and gave him a look. "How you doing?"

Brian made his own sound at that and scrubbed at his face. "I dunno that either, brother."

Munch just kept scanning him. "Life's running a bit of a conspiracy against you these days, Kiddo."

"Yeah, boo-hoo, right? Life's not fair …" Brian said. But it hit him that John was letting him acknowledge that and his eyes sunk to stare at the floor. He didn't want to do the water welling look. And John's hand again gripped at his shoulder. It just stayed there – holding on. And it took a whole lot of fight to steady himself.

"Don't think anyone would hold the self-pity against you at this point," Munch said.

Brian's head bobbed. But he didn't like that dark hole. He had enough dark holes without adding self-pity to it.

"I'm fucking exhausted," he muttered.

"Your choir boy features aren't at their best," Munch agreed and gestured at his jowls. "You might want to work on that. Kitty-corner the dry cleaner there should be this proprietor called a pharmacist. Go in there and ask him about a 'razor'."

Brian made another amused noise and scrubbed a bit at the stubble he'd managed to grow out on his chin. He gave Johnny a look even though he knew he hadn't managed to entirely take the Zamboni across in smoothing out that ice over his eyes.

"Yea, thanks for that PSA, Johnny. But Liv is pretty happy with the state of my face."

"Shocker," John said. "So you aren't just a face only a mother can love?"

Brian allowed a small smile at that zinger.

"Not surprised Liv went and picked the bad boy look," Munch added.

"Yea, that's me …," Brian muttered. So wasn't. They both knew it. Liv more than knew it too. He tried. He'd only ever kept it up so well his entire life. Came out strong but always ended with his arms just flailing around or hauling up the guy he was trying to smack down in the first place. Hand-up, help-out. He was better at that.

So he again slumped back onto his knees to stare inside. He thought Ben had moved a bit. But if he was awake, he still wasn't looking like he was interested in doing anything but stay flaked out on his mom. And the movement must've been only momentary because Liv's eyes just slatted open to gaze down at Ben for only a second and then shut again.

"Always been a sweet guy, Brian," John told him.

He'd been assuring him of that … for a couple decades. Brian was never sure if it was an insult to his ability to be the police or if it was just Munch calling him out on his own bullshit. The facades he put up himself. He wasn't as good at the quick one-liners as Johnny. He went for the macho-fakeness and asshole-ish statements instead.

He sighed a little and sat back, looking at John. "How are you doing? You look like shit."

"Why thank you for noticing," he said. "And we'll just see how you look when you reach your seventh decade on this derelict rock."

Brian only cocked his head on him. "Don't you have some of your own chemo or radiation you're supposed to be at, Johnny?"

Munch only made a sound at that and shifted his eyes to staring in at Liv and Ben again.

"John, don't go making me pick up more pieces of my heart here," Brian said.

Munch gave him a look. "Your efforts to keep abreast of my business and schedule are noted. But confused. My next treatment is tomorrow. I am here in solitary with young Bingo and the shared experience of enduring chemical poison pulsed through our bodies."

Brian shook his head at that and exhaled hard. He'd managed to deal with John's chemo and radiation and big hospital, big medicine, big pharma, big government and all the corruption and conspiracy rants he had around it. Managed – when it came to John and his coping and take on how to deal with the health care system, cancer and his life and choices. But it'd been a bit harder to take now that his family – his kid – was in that system. When his kid was having to come into an infusion clinic once a month. When his kid was having some sort of "immuno-modulator" - that even the doctors admitted they didn't understand exactly how they worked or why they seemed to work – shoved down his throat every day for the rest of his life. Not when he really couldn't deal with the reality that he was likely going to lose Johnny sooner rather than later – his friend, closest thing he'd had to a big brother and father figure. Couldn't really deal with that right now. Not this year. With everything else that was going on. When he – so fucking selfishly – needed John there as a sounding board and a B.S. punter right now. With Benji. With his own shit. With just fucking getting by. He needed him to keep fighting. Needed him to stick around longer. Wasn't ready to add to his losses yet.

And John must've heard that – even though Brian said nothing. "The only reason I am tolerating another cycle of them pumping that crap into my body is because of that one," he said and gestured off to Ben and then off some other way, "and the other one. And her," his finger wagged off at Liv and then pointed right at him, "and you and these pathetic looks you keep giving me."

"Glad to help, Johnny," Brian said. "And the Munchkins are glad you are around and still fucking kicking and screaming and ranting. Expect you to be doing that all the way on the long route out."

"Yeah, yeah," Munch said. "Fashionably late and always the belle of the ball. Even when the Grim Reaper's my big date."

"John ...," Brian sighed just as much as he warned. He couldn't do it. Wouldn't.

Munch shook his head a little. "You realize I never had kids not just to avoid anyone having to take responsibility for me – but to avoid being subjected to those kinds of looks and comments. Guilt trips."

"Well, enjoy the trip, Johnny," Brian said. "Because guess maybe you should've have taken an interest if you didn't want to be stuck with us."

"Isn't that fantastic," Munch mumbled.

"Hey, I think it is," Brian said. "What happened to je regret rein?"

It got another shoulder squeeze. "You've got to get your lady friend and End of the Line to help you with your French."

He smiled at that. End of the Line was the Unicorn. Emily. So fucking true in too many ways. End of the Line. The line that officially gave him the title 'father' too all legally. The line he crossed in officially becoming Daddy. All kinds of lines that Em becoming part of his life - his family, his daughter - represented. An End. But more a fucking beginning. A never-ending.

"Always gotten good reviews on my 'French' from the lady friend," was all Brian parlayed back.

Munch made an amused sound. "Making Mother Teresa blush," he said.

"You know it …," Brian said flatly.

And they both stared into the treatment area again. Liv was watching them. Intermittently. She was looking at whatever they had on the screen in there and the IV bag and Ben even more.

"We'll likely be around Sunday," Brian said. "You should call. Come over."

"I only have so much time left to educate you on the intricacies of religion, Brian. But I think I've taught you enough there's no need for you to be confusing Passover with Easter."

"I think you're confusing that we celebrate anything that isn't the miracle of jellybeans growing into a chocolate egg on a stick overnight. And the kids not turning into pre-diabetics over the weekend."

"Well isn't that special," John said. "I thought Pukey anointed you all the Choosey People – Christmas and Easter Christians."

Brian gave him another smile at that. "Yea, that worked until Liv realized she likes brunch is her church of choice. And the kids are a whole lot better behaved while feeding their faces than feeding their souls."

"Cassidy, we're clearly in End Times. That attitude should be concerning you."

"Yea, some how I think I've got other things to worry about."

And they stared again – off at Liv, off at Ben. He was fidgeting a little more. Awake. Maybe screwing around with that plastic thing Liv had got him. More likely screwing around with all the plastic tubing and tape they had taped to him.

"A diabetic coma doesn't sound like such a bad way to go," John said.

Brian cast him a look. "John, I really can't deal with you talking like that. Not today. C'mon, man."

Munch looked away. "I was only inquiring if your mother was marking your people's alleged Messiah's, alleged resurrection with her usual holiday sugar rush."

Brian shrugged. "Yea, that's her standard. But I thought your mom told you to avoid the sweets."

"So what a perfect way to over compensate," John said. "Gross amounts of sugar to mark some Gentile false prophecy that's now soaked in corporate commercialism."

Brian gave him a look. "Yea, real Happy Easter to you too, Johnny. You're welcome to the sweet compensation. But don't come over thinking dessert is your women over-compensation. My Ma's still forever and always off-limits."

John shook his head at him. "If you prick me do I not bleed?"

"Don't want to get pricked – don't be a prick, Munchie Munch."

John just stared at him, though. The jib-and-jab fading from his face. "You know what I was thinking about the other day?"

Brian gave a head shake and went back to staring at his partner, his kid. Even though there wasn't a lot going on there to stare at. He was more fixated on trying to make out how much was left in the bag – judging the number of minutes they'd still likely be sitting there – and straining to see each little drop drip down the line.

"You. Twenty years younger you," Munch said.

"There's a trip down memory lane," Brian allowed.

"It was a case," Munch said. "A kid. Little boy. Nine-year-old. He was raped, strangled by a couple of older boys. Teenagers."

Brian allowed a little sound at that. "Yea. I remember that one." Like John said – the cases with kids, they stay with you. Long, long, long after.

"We talked a lot about kids during that one," Munch said. "I remember thinking here was just this young guy and at the time you were deep into wanting fatherhood. Better life, better school, better grades, better right hook. Just say yes."

Brian gave him a look. "Sounds like we don't have to worry about dementia in you, Johnny, with that eidetic recitation."

John gestured at him and then placed his hand over his heart. "That warms my heart," he said. "My student. Look at you with the vocabulary. Everything I know and yet less than half my good looks."

"There's a real bum rap …," Brian muttered.

"You were worried you wanted kids for selfish reasons," John said – switching out of the tease. "I remember that too."

"Yea, well, guess I still worry about that."

John stared into the treatment room and then at him. "I don't know if I'm sitting next to a selfish man." Brian just exhaled at that. "I'd say fatherhood ended up looking pretty good on you."

"Like I said," Brian recited, "living the dream."

"In a nightmare," Munch said flatly.

Brian scrubbed his face and stared off at Ben – the heap of him. "You know what I remember?"

"I would hope more than me," Munch said.

Brian allowed a little smile but stared at his kid. "I remember – about seven years ago – coming into the squad with a shitload of take-out to have a pow-wow with you. And you'd bailed on me without even giving me a heads up."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Munch allowed. "There was likely had some some feng shui going on with a lady friend."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that lady friend was your mom in the nursing home," Brian said.

Munch made a listening sound at that.

"What I really remember was – fuck, Liv and I had done another short fling there. The hospital, shooting, escort fallout. Then stopped returning my calls. Stopped showing up. Another royal head fuck. I thought. So there she was. Fucking awkward and I'm again trying to play it cool. Like it was just another hook up, not a big deal. And then there's this little boy peeking at me from under her desk. I hadn't heard. Any of it. The timing. Ben landing on her doorstep. That's why the fucking calls stopped. The hook-up ended. And – that kid looking up at me – ended right there for me too, Johnny. All the … whatever the fuck I'd been doing with the six years of my life before that. Fucking black hole. Just sucked up and shut right there. Done. I was sold. Moment I saw Ben. Just – there – clarity, finally – her, him. It was – is – what I wanted. This nightmare – it's still the dream. You know?"

Brian turned to look at him when he said it and they stared at each other. A long time. It felt like. But Munch gestured off at Liv and Ben.

"You know I was only ribbing you when I said you both could do better," Munch said. "I mean, Olivia could clearly do better. But you …"

Brian shrugged. "Yea, well, same. Like I said, ended up with the best I hoped for there."

"Likely not the best you hoped for," John said. And Brian cast him another look. "You give me that Shakespearean soliloquy and then you're really going to tell me that kid who hadn't even cracked thirty yet but was going on about having kids hoped and dreamed to not be married to their mom?"

Brian made a little sound at that and scrubbed his hand down his face. "You aren't really the go-to for marriage advice or know how."

John shrugged. "You know, despite my collection of ex-wives I am still a hopeless romantic and all for the sanctity of marriage. It's finding a woman who wants to enjoy martial bliss with me that's the problem."

"Sounds like it mustn't be that blissful then, Johnny."

"Well, I'm going to assume that it's not just what you've got growing on your face that's your winning feature in the relationship and there's actually something blissful there for you and Liv," John said. "Because Sugar Daddy and Baby Mama are not roles either of you wear well."

"Liv isn't really the marrying type, John. Not like it hasn't come up in the past twenty-one years."

"What happened to 'just say yes'?" John said.

"Liv more operates on 'don't ask, don't tell.'"

"Mmm …," he allowed. "Funny. I would've always pegged her as the kind of woman who made the leap. Eventually."

"Yea, well, maybe," Brian muttered. "Eventually."

John made a little sound. "You know, I get it. Liv's a fighter, a survivor. Her own woman and all that."

"Yea, she is," Brian said.

"But, you know, there's this other thing my mother used to tell me," John said.

Brian just stared in at Liv and Big Man. "Yea, what's that?"

"That anything worth having takes a lot of hard work, patience and time," he said.

Brian just made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Truth …"

"For a bit of a hot-headed, hot-shot, you're a hard-working, patient man, Brian," John said. "Liv too. And you've both put in a lot of time. When you get to the point I'm at – you start to realize, there's never enough time. So in situations like this – when it seems like the world's taking all kind of possibilities from you - maybe you should be keeping your eyes open to all the other possibilities it might be providing. You know, in the moment." Brian cast him a look. But John only shrugged. "Just saying," he said. "But what do I know. Me dummy, right?"

Brian eyed him. But only for a beat longer. His eyes went back to Liv. And Ben. His life and family. His won't-be-my-wife - who was mouthing at him 'I need the restroom'. And it still made him smile - as much as he wished he could find that little boy or softer man inside him to just do a real big cry.


	39. Frustration Point

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia stared at her little boy. She watched Benji's concerted efforts with his drawing. The careful lines and streaks and shading he was doodling on the paper in front of him.

She'd found herself fascinated with Jack's drawing and artwork – his concerted efforts on his drafting and architecture assignments – when her boys had first come home. Really, she was long afterwards. She still found it interesting to watch Jack work – to try to understand how his mind worked and how he was seeing things. The ease with which he seemed to approach that type of thought and vision and perspective. It came so naturally to him. Though, even with Jack's interest in art, the work he did was very much work. It was highly technical. And it was her popping in on watching the growth of that talent when it was already well established.

It was so different with Benji. She was getting to see the process – the growth of an artist through the whole spectrum. From his little boy scribbles and arts and crafts to the sparks of real talent that were showing themselves in the past few years. He could draw and sketch and doodle. He could sit with crayons and markers and paints for hours and hold up a masterpiece at the end. She had more of the kids' framed artwork on the walls than Brian would like. And there was constantly new pieces of artwork being tacked up on their fridge.

As much of a sport-o Benji had become – and as much talent he had in some of those activities too – her little boy would still ask to go to the arts and crafts programs. The camps and the make-and-take studios. The lessons and hands-on activities. And he'd figured out his parents enough that it was her that he came to for that. Her when he wanted to try pottery and her whenever he thought he wanted to paint some other ceramic figure to add to his collection of plaster monsters and robots lining the shelves in his bedroom. Brian might be more fun to play hockey with. And Brian certainly had the strength to toss the football farther – or the kids in the air higher and into the surf when they did get out to the beach in the summer. But there were still things that were all hers when it came to her Little Fox.

"Little Fox, it's your turn," she called gently at him.

He pulled his eyes away from his scribbling and gave her a cautious look. He kept going that. But it was that kind of morning.

It was more than that kind of morning. They'd definitely had a morning. And an afternoon and evening and night.

Their family was teetering a bit. All of them were running on stress, anger, frustration and exhaustion. They were just drained on every level.

Benji was a mess post-treatment. And it wasn't just physically or the side effects of the medication. He was triggered and traumatized. He was an angry, confused, scared little boy who didn't know how to express it. So it was manifesting itself in a lot of acting out – and not a lot of sleep.

He'd had them up all night. All of them. Her, Brian and eventually Emmy. It'd taken a lot to get the kids back to sleep. Hours. And she didn't think her or Brian had slept after the kids finally drifted off. They'd both eventually given up even trying. They'd both been down on the main level of the house by about 4 a.m. Benji had appeared by 5:30 and his sister by 6. And the bickering and button pressing had started again.

She'd been nearing the end of her rope in managing them. Two overtired children expressing a whole lot of frustration with just the whole world and life and not even really knowing why. Emmy had been dominating Benji a bit in their arguments and he was getting frustrated with that too. Lashing out to the point he was just being plain mean and veering dangerously close to one of his full-on rage meltdowns. She knew they were more of a PTSD episode than anything but if he tipped over into one the repercussions of it could take days for Benji – and all of them – to bounce back from. It was exhausting and draining when they were already running on empty.

Olivia could tell that Brian was ready to snap too. His body language – and tone – made clear that he was about ready to loss his patience. So even though she didn't particularly feel like it – she'd pulled the plug and pulled Benji out of there. Because if Brian lost it he'd be liable to say or do something he regretted. That he'd end up stewing about – and beating himself up about – for days afterwards too. And Benji wasn't taking the hint – wasn't seeing all the signs – that he was getting very close to pushing his dad over the edge.

And when Brian raised his voice at the kids – their family was just reaching a different level. The kids knew it. He was always so even with them even when he was telling them off or outright disciplining them. She, on the other hand, regularly had to raise her voice at them. And she wasn't quite as hesitant as Brian about grabbing their wrists or pulling them along by the sleeve of their shirts to separate them and put them in their respective time-out spots. To order them to do their chores or to start counting from across the house or calling out that their allowance that week had just taken a hit because of their behavior. She supposed in some ways she was the Bad Cop. But in other ways Brian was – and could be just as, or more, terrifying than in her getting their kids behavior to sputter to a stop and get back on track.

But that morning their usual tricks weren't working. Maybe her and Brian were both too tired and drained to be pulling off the fear factor in quite the right way. So instead the kids were pushing their buttons too – and pushing them around. They'd both been so close to blowing. She could feel it.

She'd ordered Benji to come with her – NOW. She'd almost feared that Brian was going to tell her to take Emmy too – because he was that close to breaking and needed his own exclusive cool down period. But he'd acted like he hadn't even heard. He ignored Benji's arguing with her about not wanting to go. And Emmy's arguing about wanting to come. And Benji's insistence that he wasn't going anywhere if Emmy was coming too. Until he'd finally called at Emmy to come and help him. It'd been helpful and not. Emmy had given her brother a boastful look and Benji's anger had flared again. But Olivia had let herself raise her voice a bit and drag him out the door.

So even now – sitting in one of her little boy's favorite places. The Illustrators Society. This mishmash of high coffee culture café with trendy up-and-coming artists (and the art supplies, classes and lectures to prove it) embedded in some sort of board-game venue too. All these abstract – nearly artful – games and puzzles waiting for the café patrons to create and collaborate with. It was a venue that often got requested on Mommy-Son Coffee or Brunch Dates she took with her son. But had been so negligent about jamming into their schedule that winter. It was a favorite spot – their spot. A special place for them. But she knew Benji understood this wasn't a reward. Not today. This was just that she was too tired to go for an extended walk or to spend hours in the park – and so was he. And she knew they likely needed to give Brian a regroup period that extended for longer than if she'd just taken Benji out for a plate of bacon and eggs. And Benji would've given her more attitude than she felt like dealing with if she'd just taken him over to the library.

So here they were. And here was her little boy gazing at her with those eyes that said he knew he'd pushed it but he just wasn't feeling well and he didn't know how to explain what that meant to her.

So instead his eyes drifted to the game between them on the table. Blokus. It was one of Benji's favorite games to go and retrieve and drag over to their table when they did come in. Though, they did have a bit of a rotation. He'd been getting braver and more sophisticated with his picks over the course of that year, though. They were moving beyond the introductory family-type games with their bright colors and quick play. But even this supposedly "simple" game was challenging enough as far was Olivia was concerned. Either that or her son was just … way smarter than her.

Only there was truth to that. When it came to this kind of thing – spatial awareness and perception – Benji was smarter than her. He just saw and interpreted space and patterns and depth in a way that she didn't entirely understand. It wasn't a way her mind worked. But her and Brian had been told that as much as children with dyslexia struggled with reading and words and letters and writing – many often excelled in visual reasoning and spatial awareness. That their learning needed to be augmented with manipulative and visual-based strategies.

That definitely seemed to be the case with Benji. Those visual and manipulative strategies – the sheer amount of learning aids and alternative hands-on activities they had in their house and spent evenings and weekends doing with their kids – likely had told them what and where their little boy's problems where and strengths were long before the education system had given him a label and they'd gotten their diagnosis. They'd already implemented some of that educational support and alternative learning systems at home – to cope. To try to help.

Though, she hadn't broken down and got this game for home yet. Maybe she should've – or should. But so far it'd been something special for when they got to this café for their little coffee and treat dates that were usually on better terms than their sit-down that day.

Benji gazed at the board. Olivia had placed her piece long ago and had waited for him to notice. He either had been absorbed enough in his drawing he hadn't noticed or he was so practicing avoidance with her that he hadn't cared. But the teetered anger that he'd barely contained, bubbling up and down, while she'd had to sternly prompt him to keep walking with her over to this place, had faded.

Benji had closed in on himself a bit. He was doing his quiet routine with the little glances of those eyes of his betraying that he was both embarrassed about what had been going on that morning and scared that she was mad at him. She knew he'd also be stressing that back at home Daddy was mad at him too.

And them being 'mad' at Benji was always such a slippery slope – how to talk to him about it and how to demonstrate to him how and why they were upset with his actions or behavior. Because he still struggled with abandonment issues and even now – years later – there little boy would have terrified moments that he could've potentially done something awful enough that her and Brian might be leaving him at the curb and just giving up on him. When Benji – even when they did become upset or frustrated and even more occasionally angry or outright mad with him – he'd never done anything too awful. He'd just been a little boy. A little kid. And all children came with their own moments of angry, frustrated, upset moments. He was no different in that regard.

But Benji didn't quite understand that. It didn't matter how many times they'd had that discussion – those reassurances that that was never, ever going to happen. It didn't matter how much therapy they'd sought out for him. How much damage control they'd done - the damage had been done to their little boy. And, Olivia knew it would haunt Benji for a lifetime in some way, shape or form. It was going to affect his relationships in the future. His ability to form them and keep them. His ability to trust and his ability to feel like he was lovable. It was all just becoming even starker lately – with these labels the school and the medical community were giving her little boy. Dyslexic, lupus, disabled, diverse, sick, medical exemption. To a little boy all of it just sounded like 'lesser'. And to a little boy with PTSD and trauma and baggage – with fear of abandonment – it sounded like a checklist on why he might just be left out on the curb.

He'd barely looked at the board for twenty seconds – little more than a scan to spot where she'd placed her piece – before his hand came out and placed a piece of his own. And he went right back to his doodling.

Olivia sighed at him a bit. "Benji, you barely looked at the board."

He gave her another cautious glance and looked at the board – like that said enough. But then he looked back at her.

"That's where I want my piece," he said quietly.

Olivia gave her head a little shake. "If we're going to play, I'd appreciate you putting some effort in. Otherwise we can put this back on the shelf for another family to try."

She got another little glance. "You made the wrong move," he said. "So I'm gonna win anyway. If you want to put in away now … I guess that's OK …"

Olivia eyed him and then let her eyes move back to the board. "I made the wrong move?"

His head bobbed while he sketched but then he looked up and pointed his finger across the board. "You could've put your piece there or there or there," he said. "There would've been best. You picked worst. See my piece blocks you and so I'll get that whole section. It's gonna be way more than you get."

Olivia just stared at the board. For a long, long beat – processing and seeing what he'd just said, what he'd tried to explain. What Benji had seen so easily. What her son had treated like some kind of chess board and seen her potential moves and known his next options and how it'd affect claiming space on the rest of the board and the ultimate outcome of the game.

"You're right …," she muttered. She didn't know how she hadn't seen it. But Benji was right – the way she'd placed her piece had allowed him to put down a piece that had clearly blocked her off from ever being able to fill enough spaces to win the game.

"I know …," Benji said flatly. But not looking at her. He was back to giving his drawing his full attention.

Olivia shook her head, staring at the game board. "Benji," she sighed. "Moments like this … it's why you have to stop paying attention to all the mean-mouthing some of the kids at school are doing. You are so, so smart, Benjamin."

He shrugged. "It's just a game."

She exhaled and stared at the board. "It's a game that I think you'd beat most of those kids at. It's a game you just beat your mom at – again."

"You always lose," he muttered.

"Thanks, Benji …"

"You do it on purpose," he said.

"I don't," she said. And she meant it. "You amaze me with the way you see things, Little Fox."

But he only shrugged at her again. She sighed but didn't have a chance to press it. The serve finally came over with their treat. The café was packed – as per usual on a rainy Saturday morning in a neighborhood packed with young families. It had been a little slow on the turnaround with the food. But that hadn't necessarily been a turnoff given the cool down period that Olivia was trying to give the whole family – off in their respective corners for the moment.

"Thank you," Olivia allowed sincerely to their server as she finally got her over-sized latte that she'd been waiting for – and definitely needed that morning.

She watched as her little boy's face lit up as the serve manuevered to put milkshake – aka the sugar coma (to the point it was literally labelled 'Smores Breakfast') she shouldn't have ordered for him but she had – in front of him. She'd sternly told Benji no when they'd been waiting in line to put in their order. And she'd instead sent him off to pick a game and find a table for them. But she'd relented when she got to the counter and go him the treat. Maybe it was rewarding his behavior a bit. But maybe there also reached point in this that they needed to give him little pick-me-ups. And even though she wasn't thrilled with her mothering to be feeding him that amount of sugar in the morning – he'd been complaining so much about his sore throat, just raw from the heaving in the days after his latest treatment, she could at least hope that the cool, smooth drink might be coating and soothing to his throat for at least a bit.

"Wow, Benj …," she mouthed at him.

He gave her a timid smile but reached for the drink before the server had even fully managed to get it set on the table amidst the rest of their spread of drawing supplies and gaming supplies. He gave it a tentative slrupe through the straw and his eyes twinkled a little more. Olivia allowed him a little smile and reached to at least close and move his sketch book so the server had somewhere to put their food.

She watched Benji. He was working at putting a dent in the shake in short order. As much as he could. The way his cheeks were puckering up – it was definitely thick. He'd never had a fancy shake like that here before. Her cut off point was usually the price point on the 'plain' chocolate or strawberry shakes. That was likely enough calories and sugar for a little kid anyway. So this was a bit more than a special treat.

"Is it good?" she asked as the server retreated.

He gave a little nod and managed to draw up on the straw a bit – but still talked around it. "You want some?"

She gave her head a little shake and reached to draw her own over-sized coffee treat up to take in some of the small and steam waffing off it. "Maybe in a bit – if you're got any left."

Benji got that shy little smile of his again and chomped the straw between his molars. "Thank you …," he said quietly.

Olivia just allowed a little smile. She appreciated that he was appreciative. She appreciated that her Little Fox was starting to peak out at her again – not that exhausted, traumatized, angry, flailing, teary little creature that had been raging at his family all night and all morning.

"You're welcome," she said and gestured at the two sandwiches that had been put down in front of them. "Do you want to share?"

Benji chomped the straw between as teeth as he considered the food. Getting him to eat lately was its own kind of challenge. Likely another reason she'd relented on the milkshake. For all the things the nutritionist and dietician spouted at them – the other reality was after a winter of constant sore throats and now months of nausea-inducing treatment – her little boy wasn't just not putting on weight, he was losing weight. She really had reached the point she was willing to just feed him whatever she could get into him to make sure he was getting some fats and calories and nutrients into him – whatever form that might take.

And she got a little nod. And his hand reached across the table to claim a half of the sandwich that had been placed in front of her. She wasn't surprised. She was hopeful the avocado would be enticing to him when she'd placed the order. So she smiled a little bit and adjusted the plate for him.

"You want the whole thing?" she offered. It got a little wordless shrug while he started to nibble at that. So she just offered a quiet 'ok' and reached to take half of the plain grilled cheese that the serve had decided to place in front of Benji – just in case he did decide he wanted the whole BLAT.

She let herself eat a couple bites. She let herself watch Benji's nibbling while he picked away at the sandwich. He was deconstructing it and eating the bits and pieces on their own between his fingers. But that was her son.

"I think next year – middle school – is going to be so much better for you, Benj. We're almost there. Not much left of this year."

"I don't wanna talk about it," he near whispered as he chewed.

Olivia allowed a thin little frown at that. "Your Dad and I are so proud of you—"

"No you aren't," Benji said and gave her a bit of look. "You're both mad."

Olivia put down her sandwich and kept his eyes. "Do I seem mad?"

His eyes did a little dart as he searched for a way to answer that. "Dad's mad," was what he came up with.

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed. "I'm not sure mad is the right word. I think your Dad and I were feeling a little upset and very frustrated with your behavior this morning. You knew you were really, really pushing it with Daddy. He gave you the look."

She got Benji's squint eye at that. "What look?"

And she gave him her best impression of Brian's look. His look of warning. His look of 'you're getting stupid on me'. His look of 'you're cruising'. His own squinted eyes with the cocked head and frown that said more than any words needed to. He'd mastered the look years before getting 'Daddy' added to his list of titles. But fatherhood had definitely given him a whole different level of perfection on it. And it got pulled out often enough that apparently Olivia had mastered initiating it pretty well too – because a smile tugged at the corners of Benji's mouth and he quickly looked away.

"Benji," she called his attention back. "Daddy and I understand you don't feel well—"

"You don't," he cut her off and gazed at her. "You don't understand how it feels, what I feel like."

She stopped and looked at him. Her Little Fox had these moments – these looks – of quiet intensity he gave her. Too frequently and too many for a boy his age.

"You're right," she admitted – again. "Daddy and I do not understand what lupus feels like. We don't know how yucky and sick and tired all the medicine and IVs are making you feel. But, Benj, we do understand you're sick. We are hearing you when you say you don't feel well. But, we need you to try to understand from my point of view and from Brian's point of view too. You being sick and you not feeling well – that makes us sad and frustrated and angry and scared too. When you are hurting, Benji – we are hurting too. We want to make this better for you and we're trying really, really hard to try to make this easier. But, you've also got to understand that grown-ups get tired too. Sweetheart, none of us got to sleep last night. We're all tired and grouchy and feeling a little sad. And that made how you were acting this morning … unfair, Benji. And very frustrating."


	40. Pacing

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia felt Benji's body wedge against her as her phone vibrated and she looked down to check it. Her little boy gazing at the screen and her expectantly.

"Do you hafta go to work?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, Benj. Booked family time. Remember," she allowed and moved to start typing in a response.

He pressed a little closer to her. "Is it Dad?" he asked instead.

She pulled her eyes from her messaging on the phone and allowed him a little smile and a little nod. "It is Dad," she agreed. "He's just checking how we're doing."

"Is he done bein' mad?" Benji asked.

She wrapped her arm around him for a one-armed hug – give him a little squeeze tighter against her. "We talked about this, Little Fox. He wasn't mad. He's overtired – we're tired. Just like you. And we were getting frustrated with your behavior. Do you think you're ready for me to tell him you're feeling calmer now and we've got our little boy back?"

He looked at her at that – apologetic eyes just staring. "Yes …," he allowed.

She gave a little nod and dropped her arm, giving him a little nudge and smile. "Good," she said and started finishing typing in her response.

"Does that mean we're going home now …?" he asked.

She shrugged and gave him another look. "I don't know. Are we done your shopping?"

"Mmm …," Benji hummed and looked back to the charcoal pencils he was clutching in his hand.

They'd been browsing the artists supply shop that was attached to the café. Benji always wanted to go in after their coffee dates at the place. He could almost spend a much time in there as he would eating his treat and beating her at games. He'd get completely lost in the shop area if one of the artists from the Illustrators' Society was actually in the shop doing a community presentation, artist talk or mini class for the kids. He'd just be riveted.

Olivia was pretty sure Benji thought he wanted and needed everything in the shop. When one of the artists or illustrators was in there – it only made matters worse. Thankfully that wasn't the case that day. But he'd still been going up and down the cramped aisles again looking at all these professional level supplies. He'd been toting the charcoal sketching pencils with him for a while now and he was really

working at doing the hard sell on her – complete with pulling out the puppy dog eyes. And they looked up at her again.

Olivia shook her head. "Benji," she said, "it's not the kind of day you should be looking for that kind of treat."

He eyed her again. "An Easter treat?" he tried.

"Mmm …," she said. "I'm pretty sure the Easter Bunny has his baskets ready at this point. Though, I'm not sure he'll feel like coming into the house to hide them for you if a repeat of last night or this morning happens."

He eyed her some more. "I know you're the Easter Bunny, Mom," he said. "Just like Santa and the Tooth Fairy."

She cocked her head a little at him. "Well, then I guess we're back to it not being the kind of day you should be asking me for a treat either. After last night and this morning."

And those eyes were still on her. "But you said you weren't mad …" It was almost a whine. Or it was.

"I'm not mad," she nodded at him. "But I haven't seen much behavior out of you today yet that is going convince me to spend this kind of 'just because' money."

Those eyes. "'Cuz lupus …," he tried.

It broke her heart a bit. But she also knew he was trying for just that. So she made herself shake her head. "No, Benji," she said. "Lupus doesn't mean special prizes or treatment in the family."

He bit on the side of his cheek and puckered in thought. Those eyes still staying on her. "'Cuz … it's really cool. Cuz it's what really real artists use …"

"And it has a very real price of forty dollars, Benji. If you want it now you're going to have to take it out of your allowance. But I think it'd be smarter for you to keep working at your drawing and maybe think about asking for some supplies for your birthday or Christmas."

He gaped at her. "Mom," he protested. "That's forever away!"

Olivia shrugged and looked back to her phone. She actually wanted to hold him off until then anyway. She'd already more than realized that Benji was ready for more than the Crayola art supplies they had at home. But she'd been giving him time to grow up – and grow as an artist – before she invested in the price points on even the entry-level true art supplies.

"Should I ask Daddy to check your allowance savings jar for you?" she put to him.

He gave he a big huff and then a bigger sigh – but didn't say anymore. He just stared at the drawing set longingly.

It was likely good he didn't because she was pretty sure from the gist of the texts Brian and Emmy were probably out the door at that point and starting to make their way towards them. What they actually did when they regrouped as a family was another story. Brian had followed up her assurance that Benji had calmed down with just: "Cpt Marvel?".

It was likely another poor choice in rewarding behavior. But also an indication of where things were at with Brian. He was tired – he knew that she was tired and suspected that Benji was still tired. But Emmy had gotten the most sleep of all of them and Olivia suspected that Emmy was still go-go-go (because she always was a ball of energy) and now Brian was ready to get her out of the house too. But it was raining and chilly. Not a park day. And clearly none of them were in a state that it'd be very smart to get in one of the museums. So sitting in a dark theater and staring at a super hero movie was being proposed.

She'd just texted back: "Sure. Or Netflix?" That actually sounded more preferable to her. She might be able to sleep through whatever movie the kids picked then – guilt-free. She'd feel compelled to keep her eyes open if they were paying movie theater prices to watch Captain Marvel.

Brian's delayed response – she assumed because he hadn't really waited for one. He was probably getting shoes and coats on and them out the door before he glanced at her message – was: "No popcorn."

So apparently that meant they couldn't flake out on the couch at home. Though, she'd tried to offer a resolution to that with: "I can pick some up." But so far she hadn't gotten a reaction to that. They were out the door. His phone was in his pocket. He probably wouldn't be looking at it again until they met up.

"Mom …," Benji near whispered at her and nudged closer to her again.

She made a listening sound, readying to send another text off to Brian.

"Some guy keeps staring at us," he said.

She glanced at him and then glanced urgently around the shop. "Who?" she asked, pulling Benji a little closer again.

With what was going on at work right now – with Miller – she wasn't taking any risks. She was on high alert for the safety of her family. Higher than usual. Usually her spidery sense when they were out and about – about inappropriate men in inappropriate settings looking at her children in inappropriate ways – more than kicked in. Since Lewis there'd been points where it'd reached paranoia. She'd learned to dial it back. It'd taken a lot of hard work. It'd been easier to easy herself back into society – as a woman than it'd had been as a mother. It'd ingrained a fear in her – an over protectiveness and apprehension, a hyper-vigilance – that she didn't think was ever going to fully resolve. Sometimes it was exhausting. And frustrating. And just anxiety inducing in its own way. Especially right now – when there were other ways her family felt so vulnerable and exposed.

But she'd done her scan of the café and the shop when they'd come in. While they were there. Watching the coming and going and activity around them. There hadn't been anything that had bumped wrong with her. Her gut and nerves weren't telling her anything to be on alert about. There were only a few other people over in the shop right then.

Benji gave a little nod back over in the direction of the café and the area for those waiting to get their to-go caffeine fix from the baristas. "Him …" he said.

And her eyes went and she stopped. She gaped a little unsurely and then the man – David Haden – gave her a small smile and said something to a young woman – a teen-aged girl he was loitering over there with – and then came over.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to stare. I just wasn't sure it was you."

"Ah …," she shook her head a little. She felt awkward and a little jarred out of place in this familiar place that was usually such a refuge for her and her son. For really her whole family. "David," she managed. "Hi."

"It's been a while," he said and made a gesture at Benji, who crowded in closer to her, eyeing the man. She saw David clock that. "We haven't really met," he offered. "But the last time I saw you, you were maybe this tall," he added with a hand gesture that was really a bit of an over-exaggeration of Benji's four-year-old height. "David," he offered his hand, which Benji just stared at to the point that he dropped it away. "I know your mom from forever ago."

Benji gave her a look – side-eye. And Olivia just squeezed his shoulder. "You know what you might be able to convince the Easter Bunny to bring?" she put to him. "Some Silly Putty or Magic Clay. I think I saw some. Can you check the price for me?"

He still gazed at her – like he thought he might need to protect her from this strange man.

"It's alright, Benj …" she assured.

And he slowly drew away from her and went back down the aisle that had the few kid craft supplies and kits. But he kept staring their way.

"Benj …?" David asked.

She gave him a thin-lipped smile at that. She wasn't sure she wanted to do this. "Benji," she offered.

"He's grown," he said – like he'd had any sort of knowledge about her or her family beyond the passing glimpse he'd gotten of her boys on the courthouse steps years ago. But maybe he had. He was connected and they worked in a small community that churned a rumor mill. If he wanted to know about her – and her life and her family – it wouldn't be hard to glean information. Olivia on the other hand had purposely avoided his name – and face – as much as possible.

"They do that," she allowed and then made a little gesture at the place – the one they were in so often but she'd never seen him before now (thankfully). "I didn't realize you lived in the area."

"Well, I don't," he said and gestured back to the teenager he'd been with. She was now fully absorbed in her phone. "My kids live in Cobble Hill with their mom."

"Ah," Olivia allowed. They weren't exactly in Cobble Hill but she supposed they were getting toward it and it wasn't exactly hard to cross between neighborhoods seamlessly. "She's grown too." Not that Olivia had ever seen more than pictures of David's children. But his little girl and little boy had been just that all those years ago. His daughter must've been about seven or eight at the time they were dating. So she must be at least fifteen now.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded and then gestured again off into the gallery section of the Illustrators' Society building. "Her school – their art program – has an exhibit up right now. I didn't get into the reception, so I'm doing my mea culpa today. Nice little place," he said with a glance around the shop that betrayed he didn't exactly feel that way. "You get in here much?"

"We do," was all she gave that time.

He gave a little nod. "Living in Brooklyn these days?"

Olivia nodded and gave her eyebrow a rub. "We are. Getting close to three years."

He made another little face. "Wow. Really? What neighborhood?"

She kept his eyes at this fishing expedition that she wasn't sure what the point was. "Carrol Gardens," she said flatly.

"Nice," he nodded. "But I'm not sure I ever pegged you as anything other than a Manhattanite."

She glanced over to check on Benji. He was still staring right back at them. "My priorities and circumstances changed a bit."

"Mmm," he allowed. "I heard – saw in the news – a bit of what you went through there a few years back."

She just gave him a look and a little shrug – she wasn't sure what he wanted her to say to that. And it wasn't something she was about to discuss with him.

"Mom, it's only a dollar seventy-five," Benji called at her.

She looked back at him. "OK, Little Fox. Do you see a color you think your sister might like?"

His eyes went back to the shelf and scanning again, riffling between the packaging to see the options.

"Sister?" David said.

Olivia gave him a little shrug but nodded. "He has a sister. I have a little girl."

His face betrayed some element of surprise with that while he processed. "A daughter? Wow. I'd love to see some photos."

She knew he wouldn't. And she didn't have any intention of sharing them – with him. Though, her photo vibrated in her hand at that instant – lighting up the screen again and drawing David's eyes – likely at least giving him a glimpse of her smiling, happy, beautiful change gazing out from the lockscreen.

Olivia turned it a bit in her hand, checking Brian's message that basically said 'whatever' to what they ended up doing but that he still needed to take Emmy out 'for a run' and they'd be there soon. She stared for a moment at the picture of her children under the message bubble and then twisted it in her hand to hid the photo from David's sight. Though, she could tell he'd seen.

"Universal opinion seems to be Emmy takes after me and Benji is his Daddy's," she said – flatly but purposefully.

And she watched him process that awkwardly again. To draw out meaning and context. But given David's failed attempt at marriage and family life she wasn't sure he'd quite understand. Mom, Mommy and Mother didn't have different contexts to him. And she wasn't sure he realized that Dad, Daddy and Father did either. She didn't think he'd been a Daddy in a long time and with the looks of that pretty teen over there – or rather the fact she'd barely glanced their way – she suspected that David wasn't even really earning the Dad title these days either. It was too bad – it was sad – because 'father' wasn't a title that amounted to much. In her experience. In Brian's experience. In their family – the family they'd made – experience.

"Umm … yeah, I heard you ended up with … Cassidy? Brian Cassidy?"

She made a small noise at that and rubbed at her eyebrow. There was some tone to the statement. But Brian had played a roll in bringing David down. That had been part of his job and part of the case. Neither of them were mutual fans of the other – to the point that her and Brian had never really discussed her relationship with David. But there wasn't much to say. And it really wasn't worth talking about. It was a five month blip in her life. He hadn't been the right man for her – and he'd used and played her to his own ends in his own ways. He'd hurt her too – in his own ways. He'd manipulated her vulnerability in that moment – when Elliot had left. And she'd let him.

And now the 'he's a piece of work' tone about Brian betrayed what he thought of the man she was with now. Like he expected that they weren't actually together now. That anything between them would've been short lived. That her and Brian were incompatible.

"I ended up with Brian," she nodded at him firmly – mirroring his language and biting her tongue in providing more than that. That she didn't 'end up' with Brian. That Brian fought hard to be a part of her life and to have a family with her. That he worked his ass off to care for her and to take care of their children – through his own bumps and derailments in his career. That he showed up – for her and the kids. That he showed her kindness and gentleness. That his upfront, out-spoken and rough-edges had at least meant that he was so clear-cut with her that she'd never felt used or taken advantage of. Never manipulated. That she wasn't 'with' him and she hadn't 'ended up' with him. She'd made a purposeful, educated and gradual choice to have him in her life – her children's life. To make a family with him. He was her life partner. And he had been for seven years. Not five months of weekends spent in bed together.

"Lucky guy," David offered but then looked at her. "You ever get on that trip to Paris?"

And Olivia made an almost amused sound at that. And shook her head a bit. She didn't know if that was a jab at her or a jab at Brian – all disguised as friendly small talk. If David was the ass-hat that Brian thought he was. Or if he was something much worse than that.

"No, David," she said flatly. "About as far as I got was Montreal and Quebec City."

"Oh, that's too bad," he said.

She shrugged. "I don't think so. We had a really wonderful family road trip."

"Well, someday. Right?"

And she just shrugged again. "Someday," she agreed but then added, "Or not."

Her eyes drifted as she saw the door of the café open again and a familiar profile come in. She popped her head – and straightened her height – enough that Brian easily spotted her. He came back hand-in-hand with Emmy and gave her a bit of a look as he realized who she was standing with.

"Hey …," he allowed to David.

"Cassidy," David said and stuck out his hand. Brian gave it about the same level of stink eye as Benji had but did accept it giving it a brief shake.

But he eyed her nearly the whole time.

"Where's Big Man?"

She gestured behind her. But Emmy had already spotted her brother and had dropped Brian's hand to go trotting over.

"You pickin' crafts Bubba?" she asked. David staring after her kids. And Brian staring – near glaring – at him.

"So that thing," Brian said. "If we're going, we should get going."

She nodded. "OK," she mouthed and looked at Brian. "We're headed to a movie."

"Fun," he monotoned. "Two hours in black and white?" he cracked.

Olivia allowed a thin smile. "Three hours of super heroes," she said.

"There's a change of pace," he said.

And she shrugged at him. "Guess it was needed," she allowed.

And she didn't say anything more – no goodbye, not nice to see you. She just took Brian's hand and wandered back to retrieve the kids. It was what was needed. They were what she needed. They had been for years.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**One more chapter in this story. Reviews appreciated.**


	41. Everything and Nothing

**Title: Facing Forward**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Brian Cassidy and Olivia Benson attempt to cope with his past abuse while trying to maintain their relationship and raise their family. This set of chapters is set in the aftermath of the S20E16 (Facing Demons). The story is also set in the Hello, Goodbye and Welcome Home AU.**

Olivia watched as Emmy found the right place for another puzzle piece and excitedly pressed it into place.

"G-g-g-ot it!" Emmy said.

"Good job, Little Duck," Olivia mouthed.

Emmy hung her tongue out at Benji – leaning in so close to him like she was going to lick him. Just jushing for a reaction. But she didn't get one. At least not from Benji.

"Em – stop," Brian said flatly.

The little girl huffed at him loudly but settled back on her chair and stared at the pieces again.

Benji was still acting a little off. Tired and rundown. It was hard to watch him press through all his anxiety. But they were still having a nice enough morning. A nice enough weekend of family time – even if it wasn't entirely how Olivia might've hoped for. They were barely getting out of the house with the weather and Benji's rebound from treatment – let alone having gotten to have the weekend getaway she thought they all could really use. A few days escape from reality. Lately it was feeling like they all needed that – maybe she needed it – more and more.

But at least the kids were having fun.

She wasn't sure with the way they'd been acting and at each other. But they'd still been up almost before the crack of dawn and bouncing in on her and Brian's bed – excited for their egg hunt.

They'd tried to steer them off by placing their first Bunny clues, plastic eggs and a scattering of the chocolate eggs in the hallway outside their room and luring them into the bathroom and the Emmy's old bedroom that had been converted into their new disaster play space. But it'd really only worked to give them an extended alarm clock as the kids clattered around just outside their bedroom door – arguing about who got to read the note from the Easter Bunny and the most effective way to collect the eggs and then divide them.

By the time they'd jumped on top of her and Brian they seemed to have settled on putting the chocolate eggs in one of Benji's caps and were just carrying around the plastic ones. Though they'd begged to get to open them and almost immediately started finding loopholes about their Bunny Money coupons. Like did they both have to use their ice cream sundae coupons at the same time? Or did they get to use it different times and that meant the family got to go for ice cream twice? Her kids weren't stupid. They knew how to play the system. Sometimes it drove her crazy.

But sometimes she just drove herself crazy. The 'Easter Bunny' writing his clue about where the kids' baskets had been hidden on the back of a puzzle had seemed like a good idea. And, maybe it really was. It was keeping the kids quiet and occupied – though for a little longer than she'd anticipated. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing. It was more that Olivia had already done the puzzle the night before to write the note on the back of it. And then she'd already hidden the eggs that had been hunted to find the pieces. She really didn't have the desire to work on the thing a second time in less than twelve hours – especially without having coffee into her yet.

But the kids were so happy and content. Being given puzzle pieces and collecting 'Bunny Money' Easter redeemables to get out of chores, pick a movie rental or name the family's Sunday dessert all of which were little more than 'coupons' that they'd just printed off the Internet the night before too was apparently more than enough for her kids. She almost thought they'd forgotten they were working toward the clue to the location of their baskets. If they'd really cared, she thought they likely would've flipped the puzzle by now trying to read the markered note. But instead they were just picking at it with the picture up like it was any other puzzle. Slow and steady.

She likely picked one with too many pieces. It was just one from the dollar store. The selection had been limited and had pretty much jumped for about 24 pieces to 500. She would've liked a happy medium. Say 100? Maybe there had been more selection if she'd gotten around to planning and pulling together anything that year. But it wasn't that kind of year this year.

At least her kids seemed happy. And the weather outside was so awful that weekend it wasn't like they were in any big hurry to get off doing something else outdoors with their Easter Sunday.

Olivia slowly pulled herself up and moved around the table, trailing her fingers down Benji's back as she did. Though he still seemed off, he was so much calmer that morning. Those first two to three days after his IV treatments were proving to be their own form of a brief stay in Hell for their family. But they were getting through it. And then they got their little boy back.

Brian gave her a look – it was an ask if everything was alright – but she only nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze as she went by.

She peeled off the bunny ears she'd been wearing. It was Benji's headband but he'd decided he was way too grown up to be subjecting himself to that look. She wasn't even sure she'd gotten a picture of him with them on that year. He'd pretty neatly placed them on her head nearly as soon as Emmy had placed them on his.

But Olivia had obliged – wearing them while the kids collected their plastic eggs and searched out the handful of chocolate eggs that had been laid out around the house. The ones that since Brian had hidden his own handful of them – they were all likely to be stumbling across them for days. Or more likely she'd spot Brian eating something only to be told he 'found' an egg. Sometimes she thought he very purposely put them in difficult spots so he was the only one who knew where they were – guaranteeing he actually got some of the chocolate. He was good at finding the loopholes too. Smart. But also good at driving her crazy.

She hunched at the counter, staring at the coffee pot. Brian always filled it and then it always too way too long to percolate. Though, she'd admit she did feel like she could about drink a pot of coffee all on her own that morning. Lately, it felt like that most mornings. She was dragging. More need for a vacation – a real vacation.

Olivia gave a glance as Brian came into the kitchen too. He leaned his ass against the counter just down from her and picked up the bunny ears, giving them a little wag.

"Really? Done already?" he said. There was a tease to it. Some innuendo.

And she allowed him a little smile and shook her head. He enjoyed the ears way too much. He never said anything much – but his look said it all.

"You alright?" he asked instead.

And she again allowed a little nod. "Just tired," she said and gestured at the coffee.

He nodded a little. "Want me to start breakfast?"

She gave a little shrug and leaned around him to look back at the kids at the table. They were still working at their puzzle. There was chocolate available. She was sure Janet would be there soon with some sugar and cinnamon and icing and candied fruit baked good pretending it was breakfast. And if Jack did manage to show up he'd been ordered to bring orange juice. Not that he'd replied to her text asking him to do that the night before. Or shown any sign of life or ETA on his arrival that morning. But they'd make do. As good as Brian's weekend breakfasts were, he deserved a day-off too. He needed it about as much as her – but was about as loath to admit that as her. Like booking furlough and taking a vacation was some sort of sign of weakness. She supposed as a cop in the kind of jobs they'd both come up in – it was.

"I think everyone is alright right now," she said.

He made a listening sound and stared at the kids for a long beat too. So long that she went back to staring at the coffee dripping away. But then Brian's hand was pressing along the counter and her eyes drifted to see him clutching a plastic golden egg.

"Think that one's got your name written all over it," he said.

She scrunched her eyebrow at him. "What's this?" she asked but still reached for it.

Brian wasn't much for little gifts and surprises – and when he was, it was rarely at standardized calendar or Hallmark holidays. They'd come out of nowhere. Or they'd come out of him thinking he'd gotten himself on her bad side and he had to do something as a 'sorry' effort.

Though, she supposed him giving her anything on Easter would be pretty close to out of nowhere. They weren't much for Easter beyond doing a few little things for the kids and letting his mother use it as an excuse to come over – and usually do some cooking or baking for them.

"Open it," was the only answer she got.

Olivia hadn't really needed it. She was already popping the plastic ends apart. But as it did open, she gave him another 'what's this look?'.

It was pretty clearly a jewelry box in the egg. Brian giving her jewelry wasn't entirely uncommon. When he did get her gifts he had definitely developed an eye for the kinds of bracelets and necklaces she liked. He'd selected her – or had picked up the tab on behalf of the kids gifting her – some beautiful and truly unique pieces over the years.

But this wasn't the size of box that she expected to find a bracelet or necklace inside. And the way he was looking at her betrayed that it wasn't going to be a charm or pendent either.

Her mouth hung a bit while she tried to find words. She tucked her hair behind her ear. She brushed at her bangs.

"Don't do that," he said. She gave him a questioning look. And he just looked at her, nodded at her – her hair. "It's what you do when you're uncomfortable. When you feel vulnerable. Around me. Around men."

She stared at him at that. And she felt her hand go up again to adjust her hair but then dropped it. He wasn't wrong. And sometimes it was still hard to know that Brian knew – was a tuned to – so many of her tells. She'd let him in. Sometimes even more than she let herself admit to herself.

"I'm a little nervous to open this, Bri," she said.

"It's not what you think," he said.

She exhaled at that statement and rubbed at her eyebrow. At least it wasn't her hair. But she knew it wasn't much better. She was very sure she knew what this was. And she gazed between him and the little velvet box in her hand. She was very sure it was almost exactly what she thought.

But she still opened it. She wasn't sure if she made herself or she let herself. It almost felt like it just happened. Like it was meant to happen and out of her control at that point. And that pressed at her insides too. She felt nervous – though not scared. His word choice – vulnerable – was likely most accurate.

But it did open. And as it did she gaped a little, her breath catching and her heart skipping.

It was a ring. Just like she thought. Though not exactly what she thought. But likely more than close enough for who they both were and how they both were.

A delicate gold band that again betrayed that Brian had become attuned to her tastes and sensibilities. It was pave set – completely encircled – with sparkling rose cut diamonds. It was simple – fine, delicate – but sophisticated in its refined elegance. It was gorgeous.

"Brian …," she managed to get out, looking at him apologetically. She just wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure what this was. What it meant. Even though she knew.

"You don't have to say anything," he said.

She shook her head. That was good – because she still was not sure how to respond to that. This.

"I went into the jewelers that you got your necklace from," he said.

"I can see that …," she managed, still staring at the ring – at the box that had the label that had already betrayed where he'd made the purchase.

"The clasp that's gummed up. It's pretty unique. I was going to see about replacing the chain. But saw that. Thought you might like it a bit better."

She finally managed to exhale – but it came out as more of a sigh. She looked at him.

"Brian, it's beautiful. But … Bri … I know that store. I'm familiar with their prices. A ring like this …" And she just shook her head again. "You're looking for me to say something."

He slouched against the counter a bit more. "Liv, I know you aren't too interested in marriage."

"Bri …" she sighed but he flexed his hand off its grip on the edge of counter. He held it in a quiet, silent stop.

"I'm not asking you to marry me again. I'm not trying to push you into a corner to have that conversation again. I know if or when you decide that's something you want – you'll tell me. I'm okay with that."

"No you aren't …," she muttered.

"I've accepted it," he provided. "I'm comfortable with what we've got going here. But I had some money – for a while, Liv – put aside for that if and when. I'd rather get to see you wearing something you like than it just sitting in a bank account getting pennies in interest."

"Brian, a ring like this—"

"Not an engagement ring. Or even a commitment ring. Or a promise ring. It's a … whatever you want it to be ring."

She let out a slow exhale again. "I don't know what I want it to be …"

He gave a little shrug. "Do you want to try it on?"

She allowed him a thin smile at that and a "yes" slipped out before she had meant it to. But it got a smile out of him.

"So …," he said and nodded at the box.

Olivia moved to take the ring out but realized her hands were shaking. He noticed and pressed off the counter and took it from her – gently. She met his eyes and he kept them for a long moment. And then he looked down and guided the ring so slowly down her finger. They both stared at it.

It fit. It looked good. Beautiful. Right.

She looked up giving him a soft smile and then reached to hug him. He engulfed her – and pressed a kiss against her forehead while she just settled her cheek against his shoulder, while she mumbled into his chest, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," was all he said. And he didn't let go.

"What would it change for you now?" she whispered against him.

His cheek rested against the crown of her head. And he stayed silent so long that she thought he wasn't going to answer. But then he lowly rumbled so quietly that she more felt it than heard it: "Everything and nothing."

And she let that reverberate against her and then whispered, "yes".

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**That's it.**


End file.
